Fic: UST (An Unfortunate Series of Tropes) (11/20)
Title: UST (An Unfortunate Series of Tropes)
Rating: NC-17
Genres: Humor, Angst
Setting: Post Season 3B, slightly AU from mid-season 3B
Pairings: Stiles/Derek, background Scott/Kira
Wordcount: 2.5k (this chapter); ~50k total
Betas: percygranger and desiderii
Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.
Wait, what?
Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.
Chapter 1: Animal Transformation (Or: Lack of self-preservation instinct)
Chapter 2: Bed Sharing (Or: Don’t get drool on my pillow)
Chapter 3: Clothes Stealing (Or: My whole life is a lie)
Chapter 4: Unexpected Nerd References (Or: Carry on with your bad self)
Chapter 5: Gone Missing (Or: Scott is the worst)
Chapter 6: Sleep Deprivation (Or: Give my love to Rosebud)
Chapter 7: Bonding Ritual (Or: Zero of ten, would not recommend)
Chapter 8: Accidental Marriage (Or: Why does no one trust me?)
Chapter 9: Road Trip (Or: Screwed, and not in the good way)
Chapter 10: Dubious Consent (Or: Mother fudgesicles)
Author's Note: Warning for discussion/mention of rape.
Chapter 11: Hurt/Comfort (Or: A sign from above, fate, and all that jazz)
Stiles scrambled over the back of the stuffed armchair, desperate to find his jeans and shirt, which had apparently wedged themselves between the coffee table and the wall. Every passing moment, his connection to Derek felt both tenser and more fragile, like a piece of saltwater taffy, or a strand of melted marshmallow, or gooey strings of mozzarella cheese.
Maybe Stiles was just hungry.
He tried concentrating, like he’d done when the bond had first taken effect, but all he got back were occasional bursts of traffic noise, or flashes of color, red and orange. He also could feel anxiety simmering below his breastbone, but he wasn’t sure if that was something Derek was projecting, or Stiles’ own worries.
Nothing.
Stiles worried his bottom lip as he finished buttoning up his jeans, his hair still dripping down his forehead and the back of his neck, soaking through his shirt. He could hear running water-the shower, he’d forgotten to turn off the shower. He stepped into the bathroom, feet sliding on the wet ceramic, before turning off the spray.
Stiles stood there for a moment, staring at his hand as it rested on the lever. Between his fingers, he could see the metallic silver of the knob, shining his own warped reflection back at him.
Stiles jerked his hand back as his chest spasmed, the tug towards Derek making itself known once more. Derek was still running, he could tell, and every foot of distance between them was making it harder to think.
Stiles needed to find him.
Well, there was no way Stiles was going to catch up on foot. He’d just have to hope Derek forgave him for borrowing his car.
Stiles grabbed a towel and scrubbed it through his hair a couple times to get out the worst of the wet and dashed towards the door, Derek’s keys clenched in one fist.
When he stepped out into the hall, he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in through his nose once, twice, then letting it out through his mouth in a rush. He was going to find Derek. He’d figure out what to say when he found him. For now, the important part was making sure Derek didn’t get lost in an unfamiliar city in his wolf form.
Stiles breathed in and out once more, willing himself to calm down, before checking his pockets one last time and letting go of the door. When he heard the soft click of the latch behind him, he turned to take the stairs down to the parking lot.
***
Stiles would have traded in this bonding spell for a GPS tracker any day of the week. Once he’d finally gotten Derek’s car started, he had nothing to go on but the irritatingly vague tug in his torso. He still wasn’t completely convinced he wasn’t driving in circles; for every left turn, he made two right ones.
Meanwhile, he kept up a steady running commentary in his head, hoping some of it was making its way to Derek.
He had just turned back onto Burnside when he felt a strange compulsion to turn right. With a sigh, he flicked on his turn signal and moved over to the right lane.
He frowned out the front windshield. There was something weirdly familiar about this street. Which was ridiculous, because he’d never been to Portland before. Still, when he looked out at the buildings he felt a strange sense of recognition. Almost like he’d seen this street before.
knew I’d seen this before.>
Stiles slowed the car to a crawl as his gaze swept up and down the surrounding buildings.
right there.
The tug in his chest had settled into a satisfied hum as soon as Stiles’ eyes had alighted on the Voodoo Doughnut sign, beaming out like a pink beacon in the surrounding darkness. It wasn’t until he’d parked and clambered out of the car that he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
Lying on the ground, tucked into a side awning of the brick Voodoo Doughnut building, was a huddled black fur ball, curled into itself, barely visible in the shadows.
Suddenly, the random coincidence of finding the donut shop didn’t seem very random.
“Derek?”
Derek’s ears flattened against his skull, and he shrank back against the corner of the small space, pressed up between the brick of the arch and the wooden door, reflecting green in the light from the street lamps.
Stiles crouched down next to Derek. “I’m sorry.”
Derek let out a whine.
“Can I touch you?”
Derek’s ears flicked up and he lifted his head. Stiles waited, arms wrapped around his knees. After what seemed like ages, Derek edged forward and prodded Stiles’ hand with the tip of his nose.
Stiles held his breath as he trailed his fingertips over Derek’s head, between his ears and back to the scruff of his neck, where he buried his hand into the soft fur and scratched.
“Come back to the hotel?” Stiles asked. “Please?”
Derek settled his head down onto his paws and looked up at Stiles.
“I don’t know what that means, dude.”
“What!” Stiles flailed, falling backwards onto his butt. “Derek! You could talk to me this whole time, and you were just choosing not to?”
Derek’s ears flattened against his skull and he huffed out a sharp breath. Stiles wasn’t sure if he felt guilty, or if he was just pouting.
“You know you can’t stay here.” Stiles propped his hands behind him to support his weight. “Just…let’s go back to the hotel. I’ll sleep in the chair, and if I’m still tired I’ll just nap in the car while you drive. I’m good at sleeping on long car trips. When I was little, my parents used to drive down to Yosemite, Sequoia, Redwood, that sort of thing. Mom really liked trees.”
He looked down at Derek, who had pricked up his ears and was looking at him with his head tilted.
“Would you please say something?”
“What?” Stiles blinked at Derek, who tilted his muzzle towards the entrance to the donut shop. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Derek settled back onto his paws and let his eyes drift shut.
“I don’t want a donut, Derek! I want you to stop being. Ugh.”
Derek cracked one eye open. If wolves could glare, Derek would have burned a hole through Stiles’ skull.
Stiles sighed. He did, actually, want a donut, and he’d been pestering Derek since they’d left Redding, so he knew it too. Voodoo Doughnut was open twenty four hours, and it would definitely be less crowded now than at nine in the morning, when he’d initially planned on going. Besides, for all his protests, maybe Derek had wanted a donut, too.
“Okay, I…whatever, fine, I’ll get us donuts and then we’re going back to the hotel.” He straightened and stuffed his hands in his pockets before looking down at Derek. He had curled up into a horseshoe shape, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “I am sorry, you know. That I…did what I did.”
Stiles wasn’t really expecting a reply, but he still had to push down a wave of disappointment as he went inside the shop and walked up to the counter. Stiles was talking to the guy behind the counter, pointing at a donut encrusted with crushed Oreos, when Derek’s voice echoed in his head.
***
“I got, uh, a couple different kinds. I wasn’t sure what you’d want.” He reached in the bag and pulled out a maple bacon donut, thrusting it in Derek’s direction. “The guy behind the counter kept looking at me weird. I don’t know what his deal was.”
Derek turned his muzzle away.
“You don’t want the bacon? Guess I should have gotten you lemon filled instead, since you’re so sour. Would you have liked that better, huh?” He shook his head. “Just be glad I didn’t get you the donut shaped like a penis.”
Derek just huffed at him, setting his face down on his front legs.
“Well, if you’re not going to eat, can we go back now?” Stiles gestured towards the car, parked slightly crookedly in the slanted parking spots in front of the donut shop. He waited for Derek to make any sign of having heard him, but was summarily ignored. “Derek, come on.”
Derek huffed again, but didn’t move.
Frustrated, Stiles walked over to the car, threw the donuts in the back seat, and slammed the front door shut after climbing in on the driver’s side. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the headrest. he thought, not entirely sure if Derek would be able to parse his message.
Stiles cracked open one eye. Derek was still huddled in the alcove, but his eyes were bright blue beacons in the darkness, and they were pointed straight at Stiles.
Stiles thought,
Stiles said, feeling his eyes and mouth pinch as he glared over at Derek through the windshield.
Derek got to his feet, seemingly still waiting for something. Stiles reached across the empty seat to open the passenger side door, and Derek padded over to the car.
“Thank you, finally,” Stiles said, moving to put the key in the ignition, but Derek placed a paw on his wrist to stop him.
Derek stopped, the base of his tail twitching. Stiles got the sense it was a tail wag of nerves and frustration, rather than joy.
“Yes, I know what consent is. Look, just because the law in California is dumb, doesn’t mean-”
Stiles’ eyes snapped back to meet Derek’s, but it did nothing to stop the sudden plummeting feeling in his stomach. “What?”
my consent.>
Stiles felt his muscles clench as he stared over at Derek, who was somehow managing to make a wag look judgmental. He lowered his paw slowly and looked pointedly over at the still open passenger door. Stiles reached over and pulled it shut before shrinking back into his seat.
“I didn’t,” Stiles said, swallowing around a dry throat. “Derek, I didn’t think-”
“Oh my god, are you saying I just…did I…does that count as rape? I mean, because you could feel me through the bond and I-”
Stiles clamped his mouth shut, pressing further back into his seat. He felt bile rise in his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
He felt a pressure on his thigh, and when he opened his eyes, Derek was pressing his paw into his leg, moved halfway onto Stiles’ seat. His sad, open face looked at him with literal puppy dog eyes.
“Derek,” Stiles said, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. That he was thoughtless and clueless, that he hadn’t been thinking about Derek, but only of himself? It wasn’t like any of that excused his behavior.
“You should be!” The words sounded foreign to his ears, as if someone else was shouting, someone else was breathing in short bursts and on the verge of tears.
Stiles could feel his heart beating in his chest, sharp and painful, every thrum responding to an answering drumbeat in Derek’s chest.
Stiles shut his eyes, only to be startled into opening them by the sensation of a rough, moist strip dragging up the side of his face. He flailed away, caught by surprise.
“What the hell, Derek? Did you just lick me?”
Derek darted forward, this time drawing a long, wet lick from his chin up to his eyebrow, leaving a sticky trail of saliva along Stiles’ cheek and eyelid.
“Gross!” Stiles said, and shoved Derek back into his own seat. “Bad werewolf!”
Derek let his tongue loll out of his mouth and sat back on his haunches, looking about as smug as Stiles had ever seen him, in human form or otherwise.
Stiles’ heart thumped painfully in his chest, and he opened and closed his mouth.
Derek had licked him so that he’d stop freaking out. What’s more, it had actually worked. Derek had successfully cheered him up. Stiles bit his lip, staring over at Derek in silence for a moment, before reaching into the back for the pink cardboard box he’d set there earlier.
“Besides the maple bacon, I got cream filled, plain chocolate raised and old fashioned, ‘cause I didn’t know what was your favorite,” he said, using a stray piece of tissue paper to grab the Oreo-encrusted specimen for himself.
Derek leaned over and snatched the donut from Stiles’ hand, snapping it up in two bites.
“Hey! That one was mine!” Stiles frowned over at Derek, who had settled down into the passenger seat, resting his head on his front paws and licking his chops. “Jerk.”
There was a beat of silence as Stiles put the box back behind him, chewing on his lip as he watched Derek’s dark form curled up in the seat beside him.
This time, when Stiles tried to turn the car on, Derek didn’t stop him. Once they reached the hotel, he even followed Stiles up the stairs and into their room without prompting. He didn’t let Stiles sleep in the chair, though; he jumped up onto the yellow cushion almost as soon as they got in the door, and refused to budge no matter how much Stiles cajoled.
As Stiles collapsed onto the bed, he figured guilt and exhaustion ought to keep any further boners at bay. And even if they didn’t, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He’d learned his lesson, okay, and he knew there was more than just his own sanity at stake.
Besides, they had less than a day to go until they reversed the spell, and then Stiles’ dick would be his own again.
Right?
Interlude
Rating: NC-17
Genres: Humor, Angst
Setting: Post Season 3B, slightly AU from mid-season 3B
Pairings: Stiles/Derek, background Scott/Kira
Wordcount: 2.5k (this chapter); ~50k total
Betas: percygranger and desiderii
Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D.
Wait, what?
Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.
Chapter 1: Animal Transformation (Or: Lack of self-preservation instinct)
Chapter 2: Bed Sharing (Or: Don’t get drool on my pillow)
Chapter 3: Clothes Stealing (Or: My whole life is a lie)
Chapter 4: Unexpected Nerd References (Or: Carry on with your bad self)
Chapter 5: Gone Missing (Or: Scott is the worst)
Chapter 6: Sleep Deprivation (Or: Give my love to Rosebud)
Chapter 7: Bonding Ritual (Or: Zero of ten, would not recommend)
Chapter 8: Accidental Marriage (Or: Why does no one trust me?)
Chapter 9: Road Trip (Or: Screwed, and not in the good way)
Chapter 10: Dubious Consent (Or: Mother fudgesicles)
Author's Note: Warning for discussion/mention of rape.
Chapter 11: Hurt/Comfort (Or: A sign from above, fate, and all that jazz)
Stiles scrambled over the back of the stuffed armchair, desperate to find his jeans and shirt, which had apparently wedged themselves between the coffee table and the wall. Every passing moment, his connection to Derek felt both tenser and more fragile, like a piece of saltwater taffy, or a strand of melted marshmallow, or gooey strings of mozzarella cheese.
Maybe Stiles was just hungry.
He tried concentrating, like he’d done when the bond had first taken effect, but all he got back were occasional bursts of traffic noise, or flashes of color, red and orange. He also could feel anxiety simmering below his breastbone, but he wasn’t sure if that was something Derek was projecting, or Stiles’ own worries.
Nothing.
Stiles worried his bottom lip as he finished buttoning up his jeans, his hair still dripping down his forehead and the back of his neck, soaking through his shirt. He could hear running water-the shower, he’d forgotten to turn off the shower. He stepped into the bathroom, feet sliding on the wet ceramic, before turning off the spray.
Stiles stood there for a moment, staring at his hand as it rested on the lever. Between his fingers, he could see the metallic silver of the knob, shining his own warped reflection back at him.
Stiles jerked his hand back as his chest spasmed, the tug towards Derek making itself known once more. Derek was still running, he could tell, and every foot of distance between them was making it harder to think.
Stiles needed to find him.
Well, there was no way Stiles was going to catch up on foot. He’d just have to hope Derek forgave him for borrowing his car.
Stiles grabbed a towel and scrubbed it through his hair a couple times to get out the worst of the wet and dashed towards the door, Derek’s keys clenched in one fist.
When he stepped out into the hall, he squeezed his eyes shut, breathing in through his nose once, twice, then letting it out through his mouth in a rush. He was going to find Derek. He’d figure out what to say when he found him. For now, the important part was making sure Derek didn’t get lost in an unfamiliar city in his wolf form.
Stiles breathed in and out once more, willing himself to calm down, before checking his pockets one last time and letting go of the door. When he heard the soft click of the latch behind him, he turned to take the stairs down to the parking lot.
***
Stiles would have traded in this bonding spell for a GPS tracker any day of the week. Once he’d finally gotten Derek’s car started, he had nothing to go on but the irritatingly vague tug in his torso. He still wasn’t completely convinced he wasn’t driving in circles; for every left turn, he made two right ones.
Meanwhile, he kept up a steady running commentary in his head, hoping some of it was making its way to Derek.
He had just turned back onto Burnside when he felt a strange compulsion to turn right. With a sigh, he flicked on his turn signal and moved over to the right lane.
He frowned out the front windshield. There was something weirdly familiar about this street. Which was ridiculous, because he’d never been to Portland before. Still, when he looked out at the buildings he felt a strange sense of recognition. Almost like he’d seen this street before.
knew I’d seen this before.>
Stiles slowed the car to a crawl as his gaze swept up and down the surrounding buildings.
right there.
The tug in his chest had settled into a satisfied hum as soon as Stiles’ eyes had alighted on the Voodoo Doughnut sign, beaming out like a pink beacon in the surrounding darkness. It wasn’t until he’d parked and clambered out of the car that he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.
Lying on the ground, tucked into a side awning of the brick Voodoo Doughnut building, was a huddled black fur ball, curled into itself, barely visible in the shadows.
Suddenly, the random coincidence of finding the donut shop didn’t seem very random.
“Derek?”
Derek’s ears flattened against his skull, and he shrank back against the corner of the small space, pressed up between the brick of the arch and the wooden door, reflecting green in the light from the street lamps.
Stiles crouched down next to Derek. “I’m sorry.”
Derek let out a whine.
“Can I touch you?”
Derek’s ears flicked up and he lifted his head. Stiles waited, arms wrapped around his knees. After what seemed like ages, Derek edged forward and prodded Stiles’ hand with the tip of his nose.
Stiles held his breath as he trailed his fingertips over Derek’s head, between his ears and back to the scruff of his neck, where he buried his hand into the soft fur and scratched.
“Come back to the hotel?” Stiles asked. “Please?”
Derek settled his head down onto his paws and looked up at Stiles.
“I don’t know what that means, dude.”
“What!” Stiles flailed, falling backwards onto his butt. “Derek! You could talk to me this whole time, and you were just choosing not to?”
Derek’s ears flattened against his skull and he huffed out a sharp breath. Stiles wasn’t sure if he felt guilty, or if he was just pouting.
“You know you can’t stay here.” Stiles propped his hands behind him to support his weight. “Just…let’s go back to the hotel. I’ll sleep in the chair, and if I’m still tired I’ll just nap in the car while you drive. I’m good at sleeping on long car trips. When I was little, my parents used to drive down to Yosemite, Sequoia, Redwood, that sort of thing. Mom really liked trees.”
He looked down at Derek, who had pricked up his ears and was looking at him with his head tilted.
“Would you please say something?”
“What?” Stiles blinked at Derek, who tilted his muzzle towards the entrance to the donut shop. “Wait, you’re serious?”
Derek settled back onto his paws and let his eyes drift shut.
“I don’t want a donut, Derek! I want you to stop being. Ugh.”
Derek cracked one eye open. If wolves could glare, Derek would have burned a hole through Stiles’ skull.
Stiles sighed. He did, actually, want a donut, and he’d been pestering Derek since they’d left Redding, so he knew it too. Voodoo Doughnut was open twenty four hours, and it would definitely be less crowded now than at nine in the morning, when he’d initially planned on going. Besides, for all his protests, maybe Derek had wanted a donut, too.
“Okay, I…whatever, fine, I’ll get us donuts and then we’re going back to the hotel.” He straightened and stuffed his hands in his pockets before looking down at Derek. He had curled up into a horseshoe shape, his chest rising and falling with every breath. “I am sorry, you know. That I…did what I did.”
Stiles wasn’t really expecting a reply, but he still had to push down a wave of disappointment as he went inside the shop and walked up to the counter. Stiles was talking to the guy behind the counter, pointing at a donut encrusted with crushed Oreos, when Derek’s voice echoed in his head.
***
“I got, uh, a couple different kinds. I wasn’t sure what you’d want.” He reached in the bag and pulled out a maple bacon donut, thrusting it in Derek’s direction. “The guy behind the counter kept looking at me weird. I don’t know what his deal was.”
Derek turned his muzzle away.
“You don’t want the bacon? Guess I should have gotten you lemon filled instead, since you’re so sour. Would you have liked that better, huh?” He shook his head. “Just be glad I didn’t get you the donut shaped like a penis.”
Derek just huffed at him, setting his face down on his front legs.
“Well, if you’re not going to eat, can we go back now?” Stiles gestured towards the car, parked slightly crookedly in the slanted parking spots in front of the donut shop. He waited for Derek to make any sign of having heard him, but was summarily ignored. “Derek, come on.”
Derek huffed again, but didn’t move.
Frustrated, Stiles walked over to the car, threw the donuts in the back seat, and slammed the front door shut after climbing in on the driver’s side. Closing his eyes, he let his head fall back against the headrest. he thought, not entirely sure if Derek would be able to parse his message.
Stiles cracked open one eye. Derek was still huddled in the alcove, but his eyes were bright blue beacons in the darkness, and they were pointed straight at Stiles.
Stiles thought,
Stiles said, feeling his eyes and mouth pinch as he glared over at Derek through the windshield.
Derek got to his feet, seemingly still waiting for something. Stiles reached across the empty seat to open the passenger side door, and Derek padded over to the car.
“Thank you, finally,” Stiles said, moving to put the key in the ignition, but Derek placed a paw on his wrist to stop him.
Derek stopped, the base of his tail twitching. Stiles got the sense it was a tail wag of nerves and frustration, rather than joy.
“Yes, I know what consent is. Look, just because the law in California is dumb, doesn’t mean-”
Stiles’ eyes snapped back to meet Derek’s, but it did nothing to stop the sudden plummeting feeling in his stomach. “What?”
my consent.>
Stiles felt his muscles clench as he stared over at Derek, who was somehow managing to make a wag look judgmental. He lowered his paw slowly and looked pointedly over at the still open passenger door. Stiles reached over and pulled it shut before shrinking back into his seat.
“I didn’t,” Stiles said, swallowing around a dry throat. “Derek, I didn’t think-”
“Oh my god, are you saying I just…did I…does that count as rape? I mean, because you could feel me through the bond and I-”
Stiles clamped his mouth shut, pressing further back into his seat. He felt bile rise in his throat, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
He felt a pressure on his thigh, and when he opened his eyes, Derek was pressing his paw into his leg, moved halfway onto Stiles’ seat. His sad, open face looked at him with literal puppy dog eyes.
“Derek,” Stiles said, but he wasn’t sure what else to say. That he was thoughtless and clueless, that he hadn’t been thinking about Derek, but only of himself? It wasn’t like any of that excused his behavior.
“You should be!” The words sounded foreign to his ears, as if someone else was shouting, someone else was breathing in short bursts and on the verge of tears.
Stiles could feel his heart beating in his chest, sharp and painful, every thrum responding to an answering drumbeat in Derek’s chest.
Stiles shut his eyes, only to be startled into opening them by the sensation of a rough, moist strip dragging up the side of his face. He flailed away, caught by surprise.
“What the hell, Derek? Did you just lick me?”
Derek darted forward, this time drawing a long, wet lick from his chin up to his eyebrow, leaving a sticky trail of saliva along Stiles’ cheek and eyelid.
“Gross!” Stiles said, and shoved Derek back into his own seat. “Bad werewolf!”
Derek let his tongue loll out of his mouth and sat back on his haunches, looking about as smug as Stiles had ever seen him, in human form or otherwise.
Stiles’ heart thumped painfully in his chest, and he opened and closed his mouth.
Derek had licked him so that he’d stop freaking out. What’s more, it had actually worked. Derek had successfully cheered him up. Stiles bit his lip, staring over at Derek in silence for a moment, before reaching into the back for the pink cardboard box he’d set there earlier.
“Besides the maple bacon, I got cream filled, plain chocolate raised and old fashioned, ‘cause I didn’t know what was your favorite,” he said, using a stray piece of tissue paper to grab the Oreo-encrusted specimen for himself.
Derek leaned over and snatched the donut from Stiles’ hand, snapping it up in two bites.
“Hey! That one was mine!” Stiles frowned over at Derek, who had settled down into the passenger seat, resting his head on his front paws and licking his chops. “Jerk.”
There was a beat of silence as Stiles put the box back behind him, chewing on his lip as he watched Derek’s dark form curled up in the seat beside him.
This time, when Stiles tried to turn the car on, Derek didn’t stop him. Once they reached the hotel, he even followed Stiles up the stairs and into their room without prompting. He didn’t let Stiles sleep in the chair, though; he jumped up onto the yellow cushion almost as soon as they got in the door, and refused to budge no matter how much Stiles cajoled.
As Stiles collapsed onto the bed, he figured guilt and exhaustion ought to keep any further boners at bay. And even if they didn’t, he wasn’t going to do anything about it. He’d learned his lesson, okay, and he knew there was more than just his own sanity at stake.
Besides, they had less than a day to go until they reversed the spell, and then Stiles’ dick would be his own again.
Right?
Interlude