Sterek Stories - A Collection - II

Skin hunger

1. Quarantine

"Bad news, Stiles," his father says on the phone. Stiles almost drops the box of cereal he just grabbed from the shelf, a chill filling his chest. He almost doesn't catch the rest of what his father says.

"Wait, dad, wait," he stammers, putting his shopping basket down on the tiled floor of the supermarket and yanking his earphones out so he can put the smartphone against his ear instead - like that will change what he hears. "Back up a little. What's going on?"

His father sighs, but dutifully repeats his last words. "I tested positive for Covid."

"Is that all?" His stomach swoops in relief. "Damn it, dad! Didn't we talk about this before? You can't start a phone call with the words 'bad news'!"

"Language, son!" his father admonishes before he acquiesces a little and amends his words. "I can't very well call it good news, don't I? They jammed a stick up my nose and told me I have the Corona virus and will have to be quarantined."

"The word positive has a negative connotation nowadays," Stiles admits. "But, you weren't feeling sick, were you?" He has barely seen his dad the past few days, yet he thinks he'd notice it if his dad was feeling under the weather.

"A runny nose, hardly anything worse," the sheriff answers lightly. Too lightly.

Stiles squints his eyes suspiciously at the boxes of cereal on the shelf in front of him. "Do you have a fever?" he asks. "The chills? Sore throat? Headache maybe?"

"It's fine," his father says. "I feel fine, nothing major. You shouldn't worry. In fact, you shouldn't come home at all."

"What? Why?!" An elderly lady a little further down the aisle startles at his sudden outburst. Stiles waves apologetically at her.

"We have hardly seen each other this week because I was working a lot. I'm fairly certain you didn't have a chance to catch it from me, so let's keep it that way," the sheriff explains. "You should stay at Scott's house. I can put a sleepover bag on the porch for you to pick up."

"That's ridiculous! I'm not leaving you alone in the house when you're sick!"

"Stiles, I feel fine!"

"Yeah, now you do, but who knows how you'll feel tomorrow?" Stiles takes the cereal box out of his shopping basket and puts it back on the shelf. He'll have to exchange his basket for a cart. "No, dad, listen. Here's what we're going to do. I'm going to get groceries for at least a week and then I'm coming home. Someone has to make sure you're eating healthy and keep an eye on you."

Stiles should check if having premonitions is a Spark thing, because the next day his dad feels worse and he's confined to his bed for the next four days. It's no worse than a severe case of the flu, Melissa assures him during one of their many phone calls that week, but Stiles feels on edge the whole time. He makes sure to keep his distance and he wears a mask when he enters his father's bedroom to bring food and to check up on him. The sheriff has a high fever for the first two days, but it declines steadily after that. It puts Stiles' mind a bit at ease, though he doesn't sleep soundly the whole week, always an ear out for any sounds his father makes.

It's a lonely week. The sheriff is sleeping or dozing most of the time and Stiles is either doing chores, cooking healthy but light dinners or trying to do the homework Scott dropped off for him. By the time everything is done for the day, Stiles is too tired to do more than sag out on the couch and watch old episodes of Seinfeld on Netflix.

2. No pants
Barely two weeks after Stiles and the sheriff get out of quarantine, thankfully without Stiles getting infected, the state closes all schools. Numbers of Covid infections had been going up and up, with the hospitals struggling to keep up with the ever increasing number of patients. The stories Melissa brings back from the hospital are worrying, so Stiles understands why the schools are being closed. He's not too bothered by having to take his classes online, within a day or two he and his friends have developed the habit of keeping a steady stream of chats going on the side. It makes the drone of watching yet another hastily slapped together PowerPoint all the more bearable. Most classes follow the same schedule: the teacher starts by checking attendance, followed by a PowerPoint presentation about that day's topic and then they're put to work, expected to present their work after a certain amount of time. It's not shockingly different from what happens at school, but the monotony of it is all the more glaring when you're sitting in your own desk chair for hour after hour, without the distraction of classmates or lunch breaks.