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“I can’t do this.” Scott scowled down at where Derek sprawled bare-chested on the bed, eyes like a deer caught in headlights, ready to bolt any second. “No fucking way. I’m sorry, I just … can’t.” He started to back off the mattress.
“Scott, man, you promised!” Stiles begged. “I stuck it out with Allison! And that was some seriously freaked shit.” He struggled against Scott for a moment. “We made a deal, bro – if you get some action, then your buddy Stiles gets some too – it’s only fair.”
“Yes, well who caused this mess in the first place?” Scott spat out. “Brilliant idea, Stiles – a teleportation spell? Seriously?”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Stiles had surprised everyone, including himself. “I teleported us away from that rabid tentacle thingy. I fucking ROCK, man. I’m the next Willow!”
“Stiles, you moved us a whole three feet.”
“It got us out of range! We’d be lunch, now, if I hadn’t…”
“This is worse than lunch!”
“ENOUGH!” Derek glared between them, then rolled toward the edge of the bed. “I should never have let you talk me into this, Stiles. It’s a fucking freak show. Call me when you’re back to normal.”
“Derek, wait!” A hand caught Derek’s wrist, pulling him back – the same hand that had held him, touched him for months now. Same long crooked fingers, bitten nails, moles and all. “It’s still me, Derek. I still love you, still need you. This…” He indicated his misshapen body, “It’s just temporary. I’ll fix it, I swear – but I’m just fucking lost without you, man.” Stiles eyes showed uncharacteristic vulnerability. “We don’t have to do anything. I just – I need your support.”
Derek sat up slowly, scowl melting into reluctant sympathy. He ran a hand over the back of Stiles’ head. “I know. I’m sorry – come’ere.“ He leaned in and kissed him gently.
Stiles lost himself in the comfort, until Scott cleared his throat loudly. “Um, guys?”
“Argh – fucking Scott…“ Stiles buried his face in Derek’s shoulder, pulling Scott with him into the embrace.
From Stiles’ slight waist, a stockier torso rose to shoulders stretched abnormally wide, on which Scott’s head sat displaced slightly to the right, while Stiles’ head protruded from the front of their left shoulder. Scott’s tanned arm supported them, while Stiles’ own pale arm curled around Derek’s wrist. Two arms, two legs, but in one chest beat two strong hearts, and Derek beheld two earnest faces, two vastly different personalities warring for control of a single body.
It took a week after Stiles’ spell went awry to learn how to function in their merged body. Eating, reading, and writing were easy (Stiles had always been ambidextrous), with each controlling motor functions of his respective side, but tasks like walking or moving around were ridiculously complex. Driving required an elaborate choreography of co-ordination which couldn’t possibly be safe.
It wasn’t just functionality, but also the social aspects of living with his best friend – calling it “close quarters” was beyond an understatement. Every impulse, every action had to be consulted and shared, from making a sandwich, to co-ordinated texting, to toileting and personal hygiene. They fell asleep at night to not just the SOUND of each other’s breathing, but to the FEELING of lungs rising and falling, hearts beating in unison. The embarrassment of Scott feeling his body’s reaction to his most intimate thoughts…
“Look, I can fix this. It’s only another week until the new moon, we can reverse the conditions. This isn’t forever, Scott, I promise. But… I understood when you needed Allison. I got it, you know?” They’d fix this – he knew they would. They HAD to. “This is scary for me, too. I’m terrified. And while you may never understand it, Derek is *my* comfort zone. He’s where I feel safe.”
Derek had a look like too much emotion was giving him pain. He tugged Stiles down on the bed. “Come’ere. This is weird as fuck, but I’ve got you. Welcome to our sex life, Scott!” he added, dryly.
“All right!” Stiles crowed, while his counterpart groaned. Working together, they yanked their t-shirt off over both their heads, and unzipped their jeans, easing the denim down over their hips.
The look on Derek’s face was priceless.
“Holy fuck. Is that…”
“I know, right?” Stiles giggled gleefully, kicking the jeans off and crawling in between Derek’s knees.
“You have two… holy FUCK.”
Scott sighed. “That’s what Allison said.” He resigned himself to a long evening of experimentation.