Out Of Milk

10

What exactly did he say?" Derek asked, looking at the herbs in the bottom of the pestle as Stiles ground them up.

"Take these herbs; mix them with three drops of your suspected familiars blood and drink." He paused. "If I throw up all over the floor, you're not what I'm looking for." Stiles paused. "Although if you are, I might end up acting a little strangely for a few hours. He said it's normal." It was 9am – his dad had already left. Another day off spent at work.

"Strange? Stranger than normal?"

Derek was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs watching Stiles closely, he wasn't smiling. "Shut up, dude! I'll have you know, I am awesome."

"What do the herbs do?" Derek didn't like the smell of them, Stiles could tell from the way he wrinkled his nose.

"Apparently, my drinking blood isn't a good idea if you aren't my guide or something. This mixture is like…" He thought for a moment. "Like a safety net. So if I start throwing up all over the place, they'll make sure I don't really get hurt. Or something."

"I don't like this." Derek growled.

"Man up. If I'm going to be doing this, I've got to do it right. Harry got to go to Hogwarts, and all I've got is a sour-wolf and a couple of books on herbs, so give me a break."

Derek grunted. "What if I'm not… this guide thing?"

"Then I'm pulling this house apart until I find what it is." He looked at the mixture in the bottom of the marble bowl. "Okay, Pass the vessel."

He looked at the mug Derek handed over. "World's Best Dad? I'm doing complicated magic experiments and 'Worlds Best Dad' is what I have to work with? Are young kidding me?" Stiles grumbled, dumping the herbs into the bottom of the mug. He added the hot water and poured a liberal amount of honey in. "You know, I got this for my dad when I was 9? He still uses it." He stirred the mixture, which was laying the bottom of the mug like tar. "Does this look okay to you?"

"No."

"You inspire me with confidence, Dude." Stiles said, stirring faster. The water was an unattractive murky brown – he wasn't looking forward to drinking it at all – and the thought of Derek's blood in there made him want to gag. "Okay," He handed the wolf a pin. "Do it."

"What the hell is this?"

"It's a pin. Prick your finger and drip some in."

"Are you kidding me?" Derek snapped, walking over to the counter. "I'd heal before a single drop got out." He opened the drawer and pulled out a knife.

"Woah! Dude!" Stiles panicked. "No! No no no no! You can't- oh, gross!" It was too late, Derek had already pulled the sharp edge of the knife over his forearm. Blood running down his skin. He let a few drops fall into the mug and then turned to the sink. By the time Stiles had walked over to him, the water was running clear and all that remained of the cut was a pale pink line and some blood under his fingernails. "Don't do that again!" Stiles snapped, pulling the knife out of his hand. "Never again!"

"Drink it." Derek said. "Let's get this over with."

Stiles glared at him, before walking back to the table. The hot water was still brown, still gross. "This is disgusting." He said, picking up the mug and taking a smell. "Like, I think I'm going to barf even before I drink it." He paused. "You don't have parvo or anything, do you? I'm not about to get rabies or something?" Before Derek could reply, he put the cup to his lips and took a gulp. Before his mouth could register the grossness of what he was drinking, he took another – and another, until all that was left was the dregs in the bottom of the mug.