Foxgloves

syrup and cigarettes

Solemn silence hung over the group, like a blanket of nerves. The mint technique revealing that indeed, all of them but Peter had been infected. Derek had his fingers laced with Stiles, and they clung to each other tight. Derek could feel the worry coming off his lover in waves. Vibrating a low frequency of fear, his thumb nervously tracing Derek's hand.

      "I couldn't find anything on a cure," Peter said from the loveseat he was currently camped in. "So for now, we'll do what the old emissary says and keep an eye on you all. Though I find the fact you all have faerie STD's to be mildly amusing, I don't want to be a chaperone anymore than you all want me here."

      "What are we supposed to do then?" Stiles jabbed, his teeth baring.

      "Derek, tell your dog to calm down," Peter quipped, giving Stiles this awfully creepy smirk.

"Shut up," Derek growled back.

The older Hale sighed, "I would say it's best to keep you all in one room. Should prevent any sneaking off. The humans will obviously have worse symptoms but my bet is that the draw from the partner is the basis of the poison. It wouldn't work without all of you pinning over each other. You need them but they can kill you, it's almost poetic."

      "I should've just stayed in New Mexico," Cora sighed, rubbing her forehead dramatically.

      "I'm sorry," Lydia said softly. Her green eyes meeting Cora's hazel browns. The girls' hands twisting together.

-

Stiles still felt that the girls being together was terrifying. Cora's ice with Lydia's fire was an unlikely and horrific duo. But it made sense, in a power couple kind of way. Stiles was just glad that they both were happy.

      "It's not your fault," Cora replied in a tone softer than Stiles had ever heard. Lydia just nodded and directed her eyes back to the pack.

      "It's no one's fault," Derek cut in. "We can figure this out, Deaton and the boys will be here in the morning and hopefully they've found something to help."

      "I need to tell my dad," Stiles groaned. "He needs to make sure no one else goes out in the woods until we figure this out."

      "Okay, call the Sheriff and Allison call your dad as well." Peter said, standing up and heading to the kitchen.

      Stiles leaned into Derek's neck, "I need a fucking blunt," he laughed softly.

      Derek smiled at him, his voice as low as it could go, "We can sneak out to the balcony before we go to bed. After everyone's settled. Also uh maybe we don't tell the Sheriff everything?"

      Stiles laughed, nodding as he beamed at Derek, his doe eyes full of light and love. "You're perfect. I'm... I'm glad we're in this together, and that we have each other. Sorry for uh infecting you though... and for freaking out on you earlier." He'd felt guilty for lashing out, Derek didn't deserve that. It was just hard for him to control his emotions sometimes.

      Derek brought a hand to rub gently on Stiles' knee, tracing little spirals on his jeans. "It's alright, don't feel bad. We'll figure all this out, I promise."

      The boy nodded, and let his head fall to Derek's shoulder, nuzzling it gently. He zoned out as the pack began rambling back and forth, just letting the warmth of Derek's body keeping him calm. He pulled out his phone and texted his dad an update, just explaining that they were poisonous and spread through the air.

-
To: Dad

So, the flowers are poisonous and make you kind of incapacitated. Me and the pack are all staying at Derek's to avoid spreading it. Close off the woods completely.