#chris x melissa

[haletostilinski]

Best Teen Wolf Ship: Round 4

[electricbluebutterflies]

Chris/Melissa + “Is there room for two in that shower?”

Usual post-6B-divergent, slightly NSFW, also on ao3.

She’s probably doing this wrong.

Melissa would never admit to having confidence issues, and she’d like to think she understands the male mind given how many absolute winners she’s tried to date over the years – if averaging two dates before her children caused too much chaos even counts as dating, honestly she’s not sure if it does – but she still feels in over her head for the first time in a long time and-

Screw this. Cliches are cliches for reasons.

She’s impatient, on the edge of the bed in a sparse apartment she could count on one hand the number of times she’s spent more than ten minutes in. She did not trip and fall in a spectacular amount of mud while checking flares; she did make clear that the amount of mud currently on her partner’s body was not going anywhere near her house, and there are days she has concerns about how easily he does what she wants but today is not one of them, today is at least there are alternatives to spending the rest of the evening deep-cleaning her bathroom before anything turns solid or-

She has options now, she reminds herself as she sheds her own clothing. She has options, and she’s going to use them.

She opens the bathroom door as quietly as she can but her partner’s instincts still are what they are and he pokes his head out from behind the shower curtain with exactly the reaction she expects, a moment’s tension then release at the sight of her, that wide-eyed confusion she’s come to like and-

“Is everything alright?”

“Is there room for two in that shower?”

Another moment of confusion, then a step back, then-

“What do you actually want?”

Under other circumstances, Melissa would be annoyed. She is naked, body-length away from someone she’s been physically involved with for several months, and-

“What does it look like I want?”

“I wouldn’t assume-“

“Make out with me.”

It’s still strange that she has to initiate everything, she thinks as she does so yet again. Yanking that man down for kisses they both want is still such a rush, and she likes when he growls into her mouth, the want of it and the loosened inhibitions and-

“Is this a good idea?”

“If we’re careful.”

Actual cliché shower sex isn’t happening – Melissa has been in her line of work too long to think that’s a good idea, that’s how nice normal people break their necks – but there are still ways to escalate the situation. One of her hands slips between them and oh he makes the prettiest sounds with her fingertips on his inner thigh, closer, closer-

“You don’t have to-“

“Have I ever-“

“Please.”

All of this is hers, she thinks as she rests her body against his and touches where she wants. This capable man falling apart is hers, the want of him is hers, all of this is-

“Do you need-“

“Later.”

Later, she knows, he will rest his head between her thighs for what will feel like hours, and she’ll have scruff marks for days and oh she’s never had a lover who liked going down on her like this one does and-

Later, though.

Right now, she feels him tense again and then fall apart, and the running water above them takes the evidence, and all feels right with the world.

“Was that-“

“Yes.”

She takes another kiss and then twirls around, back against him, almost purring. “Do my hair?”

Callused hands so careful with her waves. This is what life should be, Melissa thinks. This is all she could ever want.

[rowinablx]

Chris and Melissa + First Kiss

[fiction-justanotherstateofmind]

Ladies and gentlemen: Peter Hale, his husband Chris Argent and their girlfriend Melissa McCall

[tvshowscouples]

If you love Melissa&Chris (Supergirl) and you want reblog or like,this is the link of my reblog couples :)

thank you!

[moths-in-hats]

moodboard: chris x melissa

[jtmarx]

So I was going through my documents and found a TW fic I have no memory of writing.  Idk where I was going with it, so imma just post it here

The first day of the new school year is rainy, which Liam thinks is appropriate.  As if today couldn’t get any worse.  Scott hasn’t even been gone two weeks and Liam already feels the pressure weighing on his shoulders.  For so long, Scott’s presence seemed like it would last forever.  

But now, Malia was in charge.

Which would be more comforting if she wasn’t attending classes at Beacon Hills Community College, which was on the other side of the city.  And if ninety percent of the problems in Beacon Hills didn’t happen to begin at the high school.

Liam flinches when a hand clamps down on his shoulder.  He smells Mason before he sees him, turning his head to look behind him as he relaxed.

“You alright bro?  You were just standing there.  Usually that’s Lydia’s thing and it never turns out good.”  Liam laughs and just like that, most of the pressure is gone. He looks up to see Hayden and Corey walking towards them and Liam realizes he’s going to be okay.

________________________________________________________________

Scott’s been on the fence about a lot since he started college.  The most pressing matter being Theo.  While the shorter boy had sworn up and down he was just ‘here for school’ and that ‘he didn’t even know Scott was going here’, Scott couldn’t help the feeling that Theo was lying.

But sixteen weeks is a long time to worry about your roommate murdering you.  Again.  And so Scott decides to trust him to a degree.  Scott still waits until after Theo is asleep before passing out and he would wake up first if Theo wasn’t such an early riser.

And then there’s the matter of telling his mom and Stiles.  Both of them would worry their heads off if they knew Scott was rooming with Theo.  But Scott had learned that keeping secrets never turned out well.  And so tonight, he’ll call them.

“I swear to God, Scott, I will drive up there right now and-“

“I know Stiles,” Scott says wearily, beginning to regret letting Stiles keep Roscoe.  Scott didn’t doubt that Stiles could and would end their Skype call right now and be at UC Davis by nightfall.

“You can’t trust him, Scott.” Stiles warns, in reference to Scott’s new roommate, Theo.  Scott sighs in response.

“I know, Stiles.  But I can’t spend the entire semester worrying about being killed in my sleep either.”  Stiles is visibly agitated on the other side of the screen.

“Stiles…you have to focus on Quantico.  I’ll be fine here.  If a weekend goes where I don’t call you, then you can worry.” Scott watches as Stiles goes through a series of expressions before grudgingly agreeing.

That done, Scott calls his mom and the conversation isn’t much better.

________________________________________________________________

Malia never appreciated the amount of eyes always on Scott.  But now they were on her, always just outside of her senses.  A twig snapping during one of Malia’s nightly patrols or a new car inside the parking lot – signs that someone was keeping eyes on her.

Satomi.  The Calaveras.  Gerard.  Chris. Various Alphas in the surrounding area. It seemed everyone had an interest in the pack led by the True Alpha and how it would fare in his absence.  

It is the beginning of another warm night as Malia begins her nightly patrol.  In her coyote form, she sprints beneath the moonlight, somewhat freed from the pressure of leading a pack and going to college.  She is near the Nematon when she notices, not for the first time, a black wolf.

Finally, Derek Hale has returned home.

________________________________________________________________

Quantico is no cake walk. But, Stiles doubts he would have enjoyed it much if it were.  He enjoys the challenges, both physical and mental and loathe as he is to admit it, Stiles enjoys the lack of supernatural in the area.  Or at least, he had been.

But he feels the itch, the one that he’s felt his entire life.  He feels the need to explore things that may or may not be there, to push the boundaries of reality for the sake of simply knowing.  He decides to see if the government knows anything about the supernatural.

“But you’re not just going to ask one of your professors, who are FBI agents?”  Lydia asks over Skype, her tone on the friendly side of teasing.

“Like they’ll honestly tell me,” Stiles responds.  “Besides, it’s only fun if I find out the truth for myself.” Lydia simply rolls her eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

________________________________________________________________

Derek has no issue with falling in line behind Malia.  She can be aggressive and a bit too blunt, but Scott trusts her to lead and so does Derek. Perhaps because she senses that Derek, despite his Alpha powers having come back, isn’t here to take over, Malia has no issue with acting for advice.  The two have developed a pretty good system.

No, the issue is Cora. She remembers a time when the Hale family completely ran the area.  She was young then, but she remembers packs meeting with Talia over every possible thing. Nothing happened in Beacon Hills or the surrounding area without it going through the Hale house.

But now Talia is gone. The Hale house is gone.  The Hale pack is gone.  And it’s ‘replacement’ has an Alpha who lives too far away to matter. Derek is an Alpha, but follows a Beta.

Nothing is right.  Cora is unsure anything ever will be again.

________________________________________________________________

It’s a Tuesday when Scott is introduced to the supernatural around UC Davis.  His biochemistry professor’s words are still echoing in his head when Scott notes two individuals and a third towering over them menacingly.  He knows it’s not his business and he can hear Stiles telling him to stay out of it as he approaches them.

“Is everything okay here?” His tone is light, his body language nonaggressive.  The menacing turns his glare to Scott and stands up to his full height, an easy 6’4”.

“Walk away if you don’t want to get hurt, kid.”  He growls as his eyes flash yellow.  Scott inwardly sighs, knowing he should have listened to his inner Stiles, but also happy he didn’t.

Scott lets his eyes flash red and the menacing flinches, sputters, spouts off a senseless threat and stalks away with one last glare at his two victims and their savior.

“Hi, I’m Scott,” Scott says, turning to the two.

________________________________________________________________

“I thought we were shapeshifters,” Malia states as she follows Chris Argent around the BHCC parking lot.

“You are,” Chris replies, keeping his eyes forward.  “It’s...a stupid naming convention.  Most hunters just refer to these guys as takers.”  

“Why takers?”  Malia asks, almost afraid she knows the answer. Chris doesn’t immediately respond, all but confirming her fears.

“Because they take their forms from other humans.”  The two continue in silence for a while longer before circling back to Chris’ car.  They had found nothing from the enigmatic taker that Malia had met earlier that day.

“This is bad, we have to find him before he kills again.”  Malia says, frustration clear in her voice.  Then, her phone begins to ring.

“Hello?”  She asks.

“Malia? It’s Hayden.  What does it mean if someone doesn’t have a scent?”

________________________________________________________________

“Ah, Mr. Stilinski,” comes the voice of Dr. Reese, one of Stiles’ teacher and the woman currently overseeing the library. Stiles’ head snaps up, making it clear that whatever is on his computer is quite engrossing.

“Yes ma’am?” He asks, his amber eyes locking on her dark brown ones.  There’s a hint of amusement in her’s.

“Please don’t use the library computers for recreational browsing.  We offer campus-wide Wi-Fi for a reason.”  Stiles looks from her to his computer with a frown.

“I’m sorry, I was hoping that maybe I could find some references for a project I’m working on.”  He responds, not a total lie.  Dr. Reese’s face is unreadable.

“Oh?  I wasn’t aware that any of our professors were giving out projects about magical creatures.  May I ask which teacher?”   Stiles opens his mouth but then closes it.  With a sigh, he closes out the computer and heads back to his dorm.

________________________________________________________________

Chris is talking to the pack about rumors of a pack war in eastern California when the door to the McCall front door is opened.  He gives his girlfriend an inquisitive look.

“Didn’t you lock that?” He asks, his hand lowering towards his holstered Glock.  The sound of heavy footsteps ring through the house and before anyone can react, a semi-familiar voice rings out.

“Chris!  Where the hell are you?!”  A second later, Isaac Lahey appears in the McCall kitchen.  His hair is significantly longer than Derek remembers, with curls descending almost past his shoulders and adding an additional two inches to his already impressive height.

There are various choruses of surprise and ‘welcome homes’, as well as confusion from the newer member of the pack.  Isaac ignores all of them, however, in favor of glaring at Chris, who has a grin on his face.

“Congratulations, you’ve passed your final test.  You made pretty good time, too.” He said lightly.

“What’s going on?” Melissa asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind as Isaac and Chris stare at each other across her kitchen.

“He left me in France!” Isaac roared and for the first time, Chris seems to be genuinely concerned.

“Isaac, I told you that I couldn’t be there for the final hunter test,” Chris says calmly.  Isaac throws his hands in response.

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to desert me on the other side of the planet!” Isaac takes a deep breath and some of the tension seems to exit the room.  Still, everyone’s eyes bounce back between Chris and Isaac.

“I know how you feel, Isaac, I do.  My dad dropped me off in India.  It sucks.”  Chris says before taking a few cautious steps towards Isaac.  There is a short pause before the older man wraps his arms around Isaac.

“But know this.  I am so proud of you.”

________________________________________________________________

“Lydia?”  A vaguely familiar voice exclaims, causing Lydia to turn around.  She’s surprised to see Danny with a wide grin on his face. A similar smile brightens her face as she goes to hug him.

“Danny!  It’s been forever!  How have you been?”  She asks. They are just outside of the west campus, with a soft breeze making its presence felt outside of Danny’s apartment.

“I’ve been doing well. Come on in, we just made chicken alfredo!”  Danny quips, clearly excited.  Lydia nearly asks who ‘we’ entails when she sees Jackson coming out of the kitchenette.

“Oh, hey Lydia.” Jackson says, his voice on the softer side of normal and his face more peaceful than Lydia has ever seen. The two close the distance and wrap their arms around each other.

“It’s good to see you again, Jackson.”

“You too, Lydia.”

________________________________________________________________

Liam has never been a big fan of change.  It simply wasn’t in his nature.  And yet, over the course of a few weeks, his entire pack had been almost completely reinvented.  Malia was still, nominally, in charge.  But now Derek and Isaac were here, two people Liam hardly knew.  

He did appreciate how understanding both of them were, however.  Nominally, both of them had authority, but they never held it over Liam.  Still, it was strange taking orders from them. Scott and Malia have always been lenient with orders.  But when Derek or Isaac tell Liam something, they expect him to listen.

Liam has never been a big fan of being told what to do either.  It simply wasn’t in his nature.

________________________________________________________________

Theo is crushing on Scott. It’s a fact that he has been avoiding since they became roommates, but with every passing day it gets more difficult. It’s pathetic, really.  Theo didn’t get crushes.  He was the one who people got crushes on.

And yet here they were, hunting some piece of shit Alpha who had spent the past few months brutally abusing his pack until they revolted and began a civil war.  And Scott, God bless him, took it upon himself to fix the issue.

Which is why Theo is stuck in his truck on the side of the road, with Scott passed out in the passenger side seat.  

And now Theo is here staring at Scott with an ache in his groin and his heart, thinking about what could have been.

________________________________________________________________

Malia likes having Isaac as a training partner.  He’s had training as a werewolf, a hunter, and abuse victim and it shows every time they fight.  He is far taller than her and he uses every inch to his advantage.  He is inventive and to this day, he has yet to try the same trick twice.

Today he has snuck in a small dagger and he wields it like an extra limb.  The spar is exhilarating, nearly to the point of a real fight.  

And when the two of them are done sparring, they race to the shower.  They don’t bother with waiting for one to go first.  After all, when they’re done showering, they’re just going to have sex anyway.  

It’s light and fun, the lack of feelings freeing for both of them. 

________________________________________________________________

Braeden has found herself growing accustomed to Beacon Hills.  It’s big enough for her to be an anonymous face but small enough for her not to get lost in a sea of faces.  She works for Argent now, nominally, although she is hardly there.

She doesn’t have to work while she’s with Derek.  Somehow, the man keeps a small fortune even with all of the fully stocked safehouses he owns.  But she needs something to do.  So she takes jobs, mostly protection.

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[azraphels]

Peter: How do you tell someone you want to have sex with them in a polite way?

Stiles: Excuse me, Mama McCall and Mr. Argent, would you do me the honor of having sex with you?

Derek: What the fuck is wrong with you two?

[rookieoneil]

Chris: I have a feeling we should move in together

Lucy: ehh I sometimes get a feeling I should do crystal m*th but then I think ehh better not

Chris: 😐

[ellswritings]

Magic Bullet 1x04

Episode 5

“If Derek isn't the Alpha... if he's not the one who bit you... then who did?” Stiles questions as their teacher passes out the graded tests they all took. Fallon rubs her eyes tiredly, exhausted from how late she stayed up going to see Derek. She doesn’t necessarily regret going, but now she feels an unnatural anger towards the man. He told her to stay out of the way. It’s unbelievable. All she wants to do is help and make sure no more people die, and yet he makes it seem as though she’s the problem.

“I don’t know,” Scott answers.

Stiles sighs and sits back in his seat for the briefest moment before thinking of another question and leaning forward, gently smacking Scott in the back with the back of his right hand. “Did the Alpha kill the bus driver?”

Scott whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Yes,” Fallon answers at the same time, a small yawn escaping her lips.

The two boys turn to look at her. She’s sitting next to Stiles in the row over. She freezes, realizing she just answered a question she shouldn’t even have any context to. Stiles narrows his eyes at her, “How do you know?”

She shrugs, trying to cover it up. “Just a hunch, I guess.”

“You’re lying,” Scott furrows his eyebrows. “I just heard your heart beat. It went up. How do you know?” He reiterates the question.

The brunette sighs. There’s no point in keeping it a secret, “I saw Derek last night…” she admits. “After the bus driver died, I wanted to know what was going on. So I went to hear it from him.”

“Are you stupid?!” Stiles scoffs, throwing his pencil at her. “What if he killed you, huh? Then what?”

“Well, I’m sitting right next to you so, I wouldn’t know,” she replies sarcastically.

“You shouldn’t have gone alone,” Scott scolds.

“You did,” Fallon points out incredulously, baffled by his hypocrisy.

“But I can protect myself in ways that you can’t,” he insists.

“Y’know I’m getting real tired of everyone assuming Stiles and I are useless just because we don’t have magical werewolf abilities,” she glares at him.

“I never said you were useless.”

“Okay!” Stiles whisper yells, stopping the argument from moving forward. “Moving on…” he turns his attention back to Scott. “Does Allison’s dad know about the Alpha?”

Scott, feeling overwhelmed by the mini argument with Fallon, along with the incessant questions from Stiles, loses his temper. “I don’t know!” He replies in a loud voice causing the teacher and pretty much every student in the class to look back at the three of them. He tries to play it off by looking out the window while Stiles sinks down into his chair. Fallon simply smiles fakely at the onlookers who turn away from the awkward situation.

Stiles is handed back his test first out of the three and is satisfied by the "A" he received. Fallon gets hers next, a small smirk on her face as she reads “A+” with a one-hundred percent written next to it. However, Scott sighs loudly when he's handed his, which has a “D-” written on it, Stiles leans forward to look at it and mutters sarcastically over Scott's shoulder, “Dude, you need to study more!”

Scott slams his test down on the desk, shooting Stiles a menacing glare. Stiles scoffs defensively, pushing himself away from Scott. “That was a joke, Scott,” he explains. “It’s one test! You’re gonna make it up. Do you want help studying?”

“Yeah, we can meet at my place tonight if you want,” Fallon suggests kindly, despite their previous argument. “We can make our own personalized pizza’s and stuff.”

Scott sighs, “No, I’m studying with Allison after school today.”

Stiles grins suggestively and pats Scott on the back proudly, “That’s my boy!”

Fallon rolls her eyes, kicking Stiles from across the way. “I said it once, and I’ll say it again. Boundaries.”

Scott nods along with Fallon, sending Stiles a pointed look, “We’re just studying.”

“Uh, no, you’re not,” Stiles scoffs, rubbing his shin where the angry brunette just kicked it.

Scott frowns in confusion, “No, I’m not?”

Stiles rolls his eyes in exasperation as though it’s obvious to what he’s referring to. “Not if I’m forced to live vicariously through you!” He exclaims. “If you go over to her house today and squander that colossal opportunity, I swear to God, I’ll have you de-balled.”

“You seriously need to get laid,” Fallon says to Stiles, taking out her book and burying her nose in it. Their teacher gave them the rest of the period off to do homework anyway.

“I’m well aware of that, thank you,” he replies as if what he said is a good comeback.

“Okay,” Scott looks at them with annoyed eyes. “Just... stop with the questions.”

Stiles nods with a grin, “Done. No more questions. No more talk about the Alpha, or Derek…” he trails off, his eyes going unfocused as he remembers the intimidating man. No doubt recalling their last interaction in the back of the police cruiser. “Especially Derek… who still scares me…”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon makes her way over to the girls locker room after the last bell of the day. She likes being able to change in her own space for lacrosse practice because no one’s ever in here after school. The only time she usually has to share is with the off season soccer girls who only use it to get ready for training. The brunette walks over to one of the stalls, using the restroom before changing into her gear. She still has a headphone in, listening to her playlist to keep her mind occupied. She flushes the toilet before exiting the bathroom and washing her hands. She hums under her breath, watching as the water trickles down her skin.

“Holy shit!” She screams loudly when she looks into the mirror and sees a pale, almost dead looking Derek Hale standing behind her. He sways back and forth on his feet, his blue eyes looking more gray by the second. That’s when she notices the gaping bullet hole in his arm. Derek stumbles, almost falling to the floor, but Fallon rushes forward, wrapping his arm around her shoulder to hold him up. He’s a lot heavier than she thought. “What happened?” She asks, her voice laced with concern.

He grunts in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was shot,” he manages to get out. Blood drips down his arm and off of his fingertips, leaking onto her shoes. She grimaces, but knows that her shoes are not the priority right now.

“I’m sorry, you got what?!” Her eyes widen as she moves frantically to have him sit down on one of the benches in the locker room. “By who?” She runs over to her locker, grabbing a spare shirt and a pair of scissors from her backpack. Her father’s words come into mind on how to take care of a gunshot wound. She cuts a long piece of fabric out of the material before going back over to Derek and creating a makeshift tourniquet. “By the way, this is gonna hurt, so brace yourself.”

“Wha–?” He lets out a low growl as she ties it as tightly as she can. The bleeding slowly slightly, but the wound still looks nasty. His eyes flash a bright blue for a moment before turning back to their normal color.

“Why aren't you healing?” She asks, looking over his form. A wound this small should’ve been nothing for the werewolf.

“I can’t,” he groans in pain. “It wasn’t a normal bullet. It’s different.”

“Like wolfsbane different?” She asks worriedly, remembering the different things she read in the book Stiles gave her.

Derek looks surprised by her second question, impressed by her knowledge. His head lulls forward and onto her shoulder, “Wolfsbane,” his voice turns into a whisper. “Need to find Scott. Where is he?”

“I don’t know,” Fallon answers, lifting him off the bench with a grunt. “We don’t have the same last class.” She manages to get them over to the door and out into the hallway. She eyes him sadly, trying her hardest to get him outside. Her arm wraps around his waist as another method to keep him up and secure. He’s trying to help hold his own body weight, but it’s no use. He’s fading, and fast. “C’mon Derek, stay with me,” she mumbles.

They barrel out of the exit doors and Fallon stops, looking over all the heads of the students to try and find Scott. She huffs as the line of cars is long and completely backed up. There’s no way she can get him anywhere safely on her bike, but her eyes brighten when she notices the blue Jeep sitting at the front of the masses of cars.

“Okay, I’m not seeing Scott, but Stiles is right there,” she assures him, starting to drag his limp body over to the vehicle.

“No. Absolutely not,” Derek denies, trying not to go in the direction Fallon’s forcing him in. “I don’t want help from your spaz head of a boyfriend.”

Fallon sighs, rolling her eyes as she continues hauling him. “He’s not my boyfriend,” she corrects. “And unless you wanna brave it out on my motorcycle, this is the best option.”

Derek doesn’t have time to protest as Fallon stops them right in front of Stiles’ car. She puts her hand up to stop him from going and her best friend slams on his breaks. He throws his hands up in annoyance, mumbling something under his breath as he moves to get out of the car. Horns blare from every direction and that’s when Fallon feels Derek start swaying again. “No, no, no, no, don’t fall! Derek, don’t fall!”

“I’m falling,” he whispers. His body starts leaning backwards, too far backwards for Fallon to keep up. She tries to use one last surge of strength to force him up, but it’s too late. His body's stature is no match for her. They fall into the asphalt with a loud thump. Both of them groan in pain and Fallon gets up, lifting his head to put on her legs so he has some way of sitting up.

Scott apparently saw the whole ordeal from the bike rack. He rushes over to Stiles’ jeep where his two best friends are taking care of Derek. Stiles is clearly the most pissed one out of the three of them, peeved Derek stopped him from going to play video games.

“What are you doing here?” Scott asks, blocking Derek’s view from the agitated students. They don’t need to see a dying werewolf in the middle of the school parking lot.

He tries to move himself away from Fallon’s lap, but his limbs are all too limp to get very far. “I was shot,” he gasps out, pointing to the hole in his arm.

“He’s not looking so good, dude,” Stiles looks at him warily.

“I wonder why,” Fallon says sarcastically.

“Okay, you know what? Now is not the time,” Stiles narrows his eyes at her.

Scott frowns in confusion, inspecting the injury. “Why aren’t you healing?” He asks the same question Fallon did

“I can’t,” he huffs tiredly, giving up and collapsing fully into Fallon. Blood seeps from his arm and into her blue jeans and she has to look up in the sky to prevent herself from being disappointed at her now stained clothing. “It was- it was a different kind of bullet.” He repeats the same story he gave to Fallon.

Stiles perks up, all of his supernatural dreams coming true. “A silver bullet?”

“No, you idiot,” Derek snaps irritatedly.

Scott looks as if he just put together something super important, “Wait, wait– that's what she meant when she said you had forty-eight hours��”

Derek’s eyes widen in alarm, “What? Who-who said forty-eight hours?”

“The one who shot you,” Scott answers.

Suddenly, Derek is hit with a powerful wave of pain that causes his eyes to flash bright blue, the same way they did when Fallon put the tourniquet on him. He grimaces in agony. When he opens his eyes again, they're continuing to flash back and forth between his werewolf blue eyes and his human green eyes. Scott looks horrified, his eyes darting around to make sure no one is watching before he mutters at Derek forcefully, “What are you doing? Stop that!”

“Scott, I don’t think he can,” Fallon whispers urgently. “He can’t control it.”

The boy looks at Derek, placing his hands on his shoulders, “Derek, get up.”

The line of cars start to get more impatient. As soon as they see people starting to get out of their vehicles to approach them, they realize that they need to get out of there. Now. Scott pulls Derek to his feet, the man wobbling from the sudden force. He latches onto Fallon once more, the brunette grunts but wraps her arms around his midsection anyway to keep him steady. Once she was sure they could move without collapsing again, she got him inside of Stiles’ jeep, placing him gently in the passenger seat. She huffs, realizing she’ll have to leave her bike here, but there’s no way she’s going to let Stiles handle Derek in the jeep alone. He’ll just have to take her back for her motorcycle later.

Fallon sits comfortably in the back, Stiles getting into the driver’s side. Derek sticks his head out the window, “I need you to find out what kind of bullet they used.”

Scott scoffs, “How the hell am I supposed to do that?” He asks, throwing his arms up.

“Because she’s an Argent,” he says. “She’s with them.”

Scott narrows his eyes, “Why should I help you?”

Fallon looks at him with an exasperated expression. Now is not the time for vendetta’s or looking for reasons to help someone. She sends her friend a begging look, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Because, you need me,” Derek answers in a weak voice.

Scott looks over and sees a confused Allison walking toward them and decides to wrap up this scene as quickly as possible, “Fine,” he sighs. “ I'll try.” Scott turns to look at Stiles, who's expression makes it clear that he's feeling very put-out at the moment. “Hey, get him out of here.

Stiles shoots Scott a death-glare, “I hate you for this, so much.” Stiles puts the car into drive and sets off just as Allison comes up. They’re speeding out of the parking lot, happy to get away from the angry crowd that started forming around them.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Stiles drives the injured wolf and Fallon in his jeep. There’s a tense silence surrounding them, Derek grunting in pain while Stiles shoots him angry side glances. Fallon taps her foot impatiently as she stares at her text message thread with Scott. She has to have texted him at least eight times in the past twenty minutes. She doesn’t mean to rush, but this situation seems pretty dire. Like go there, find it, make up an excuse and leave kind of situation. Not go have a whole dinner with her family.

“What the hell is taking him so long?” Fallon grumbles, tossing her phone to the seat next to her. Her frustration is evident which only gets worse when Stiles smirks at her through the rear view mirror.

“Maybe he’s busy…” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Y’know gettin’ busy.”

Fallon cringes at the innuendo, “Are you serious right now?” She scolds him.

“Stop talking,” Derek seethes, closing his eyes tightly. They stopped flashing between blue and green which is a good sign, but the low growl in his voice is enough to make her sink back into her seat.

“I’m just saying,” Stiles defends himself. “Maybe he hasn’t done anything because he’s having fun. Which is what we should be doing rather than lugging dead wolf meat around,” he chides. That stupid smile appears on his face again, “I mean, I could totally see him and Allison–”

“Stop!” Derek shouts at the spastic boy, dangerously close to striking him in the back of the head.

“Okay, you don’t need to be yelling,” Fallon directs at Derek, staring at him through the mirror. “So why don’t you stop talking and sit there squirming in pain.”

He looks back at her, fury in his irises. “Shut up.”

“Hey, you need us a hell of a lot more than we need you,” Fallon narrows her eyes. “You came to me to save your ass, remember that? You’re the one bleeding out.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, and uh speaking of that, try not to get it all over my seats, kay? We’re almost there anyway.”

“Almost where?” Derek hisses, turning his attention away from the brunette in the back. His hand is still covering the wound, blood slowly seeping onto his fingers. The tourniquet is still doing its job of slowing down the bleeding, but judging by his half-lidded eyes, it’s not going to do any good for much longer.

“Your house,” Stiles says, his voice calmer than it was a second ago. He slows to a stop when the traffic light ahead turns red. There’s no one else on the road with them which makes having Derek in the car less difficult. No one to explain their actions to.

“What?” Derek’s head snaps over the boy. “No, you can’t take me there.”

Stiles looks at him incredulously, “I can’t take you to your own house?”

“Not when I can’t protect myself!” Derek argues.

Stiles huffs angrily before turning his wheel roughly. He pulls off to the side of the road, turning off the jeep as he faces Derek fully, his nostrils flaring. “All right. What happens if Scott doesn't find your little magic bullet? Hmm? Are you dying?”

“Not yet,” Derek shakes his head.

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t,” Fallon mumbles.

“I have a last resort,” he reveals, groaning loudly when another wave of pain hits him.

“What do you mean? What last resort?” Stiles yells.

Derek pulls his sleeve up fully, exposing the wound in all its glory. Fallon hadn’t seen the whole thing, only what his ripped shirt permitted. Stiles flinches violently from the sight while gagging, “Oh, my God. What is that?” He averts his gaze, looking out the window. “Oh, is that contagious?” He gasps. “You know what, you should probably just get out.”

“Stiles start the damn car!” Fallon yells at him. “He’s dying, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t need you making a bigger deal of it.”

“Listen to your girlfriend,” Derek adds menacingly.

“Again, not dating,” she points between her and Stiles.

“Hey! Alright, I don't think you should be barking orders with the way you look, okay? In fact, I think, if I wanted to, I could probably drag your little Werewolf ass out into the middle of the road and leave you for dead.”

Silence.

“Start the car… or I’m gonna rip your throat out… with my teeth,” Derek growls menacingly.

The two boys stare at each other for a solid minute or so before Stiles finally reaches for the keys, sliding them into the ignition. Fallon exhales softly, melting into her seat as she thanks whatever force out there stopped a fight between Stiles and a man twice his size.

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon bites her nails anxiously as she and Scott text back and forth. Derek’s not looking too good, Scott. Have you found anything?

His response comes back short. Need more time. She puffs out an irritated breath. That’s the only response she’s gotten from him in about two and a half hours. The sun is already set and it’s starting to become dark out. The sky was an ombré of red, orange, yellow, and blue as the night approaches. Fallon feels terrible for Stiles and the fact he had a full tank before this fiasco started. They’ve been driving around all day. They had no idea where to take Derek. Stiles’ house was obviously a no go as his dad is the sheriff and would probably lose his mind if he found out Derek had been there. They can’t take him to Scott’s either as Melissa would freak out if they snuck in unannounced again.

“Why can’t we just take him to your place?” Stiles suggests.

Fallon shakes her head, “My dad’s off tonight.”

“But he’s fine with Scott and I being there all the time,” Stiles shrugs.

“Because he knows you both,” Fallon counters. “We could probably get away with it if your dad didn’t tell him about all the crime life here,” she sighs. “But he does. So my dad knows what the almost dead werewolf here looks like,” she says, eyeing up the man in the passenger seat. “And let’s just say he wouldn’t exactly be keen on having an almost murderer in his house.”

“Thanks,” Derek shoots a glare her way.

“I’m not the one who reported you to the sheriff,” she reminds him. “Your issues are with him,” she points to Stiles, “and your bestie beta who’s currently finding the magical bullet to save your life.”

“I am going to claw your eyes out if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” his eyes flash blue in her direction.

“Take my ears off while you’re at it,” she suggests sarcastically. “That way I won’t have to hear you complain about everything.”

“I’m so confused whether you like each other or not,” Stiles furrows his eyebrows.

“Not,” Derek answers while Fallon says, “It’s complicated,” at the same time.

The two passengers jerk to the side as Stiles rapidly pulls over once more. He picks up his phone too fast, almost dropping it in the process as he brings it up to his ear. “Oh thank God,” he breathes out. “Did you find anything… Well, what are we supposed to do with him?” He groans.

Fallon leans forward, gripping Stiles’ chair, “What’s he saying?”

Stiles swats her away like a mother would her child. Fallon scrunches her eyebrows, leaning back in her seat offended. “And, by the way, he’s starting to smell,” there’s a short pause. “Like death.”

Derek sends Stiles a withering glance before turning to look at Fallon, “Do I really smell like death?” He questions.

“Are you sure you want me to answer?” She snarks with a quirked brow. “Wouldn’t wanna make you claw my eyes out or anything,” she mocks his previous statement. Derek clenches his fists as he stares at her and she just smiles fakely. “And yes, you do smell like death.”

“Yeah, and they won’t stop arguing like freakin’ children. I feel like I’m running a daycare here. They got along for like the first hour and then all hell broke loose,” Stiles complains. Both Fallon and Derek resist the urge to physically harm the boy in some way. The crease in Stiles’ forehead deepens at whatever Scott says, “What about your boss?”

Stiles throws his head back into his chair before holding the phone out for Derek to take, “You’re not gonna believe where he’s asking me to take you.”

Derek ignores him, taking the chance to talk to Scott. “Did you find it?” He waits for Scott to explain what he’s been doing for the past almost three hours. “Look, if you don’t find it, then I’m dead, all right?… Then think about this-- the Alpha called you out against your will. He's gonna do it again. Next time, either you kill with him, or you get killed. So, if you wanna stay alive, then you need me. Find the bullet.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

The jeep rolls up to the animal clinic, taking one of the many empty parking spaces by the back entrance. Fallon tells Stiles to go find the key to unlock the building and that she’ll get Derek. She runs around to the passenger side, opening the door for the man. They resume their position from earlier at the school, his arm haphazardly draped over her shoulders and her arms securely fastened around his waist . She drags him towards the door, Stiles holding it open as his phone buzzes with another message from Scott.

“Please tell me he found something,” she begs, panting heavily as she goes to set him down in the back room.

Stiles furrows his eyebrows, “Maybe…” He looks up from his device to glance at Derek, “Does Northern Blue Monkshood mean anything to you?” He asks.

Derek nods, his head flopping slightly so Fallon lifts it up. “It’s a rare form of wolfsbane. He has to bring me the bullet.”

“Why?” Fallon queries as they finally reach the table. She pushes his body against it so she’s not holding him up entirely on her own.

Derek looks up at her weakly, “ ‘Cause I’m gonna die without it.”

Fallon’s heart drops into her stomach, “Crap…” she mumbles with a shaky exhale. She turns to look at Stiles, “Tell him to get here. Now.”

The threatening sound in her voice has Stiles scrambling to send Scott the message, informing him of the scary look on Fallon’s face. Derek begins tearing off hit clothing, ripping off his leather jacket smoothly before pulling his shirt with one hand over his head. He discards them by throwing them across the room before collapsing against the table once more. He lays his arm out for display, the bullet hole being a strange blue color, no doubt a reaction from the wolfsbane that’s slowly inching towards his heart. The blood dripping out of him is now black while the same color veins stretch up his arm from the wound.

Stiles bites his fist at the sight, gagging as he tries not to vomit all over the place. “Okay, you know, that really doesn't look like anything some echinacea and a good night's sleep couldn't take care of,” he waves off optimistically, wanting to get out of here as quickly as possible.

Fallon smacks him, “We are not leaving him, Stiles. He’s dying.” She shuffles through Destin’s things, trying to find some sort of surgical tool. “What we should do is get the bullet fragments out and try to stitch it up.” Working in the hospital has some perks. She might not legally be allowed to perform such a procedure, but nothing about this screams concern for legality.

“That won’t work,” Derek shakes his head which stops her from looking. “It’s already in my system. When the infection reaches my heart, it’ll kill me,” he breathes out.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Positivity just isn’t in your vocabulary, is it?” He snarks sarcastically.

“Why don’t you try being shot in the arm,” Fallon quips back at her friend.

Stiles throws his hands up with an exhausted scoff, “Who’s side are you on?! One minute you’re arguing with him and telling him to die, the next you’re yelling at me! Make up your damn mind!”

Derek rips off Fallon's tourniquet, interrupting their argument as he attempts to replace it with a blue elastic band. She watches as he goes to tie it with his mouth and stops him. He glares at her as she takes it from him, a glare which she reciprocates before helping him put it in the same spot the other was. “If Scott doesn’t get here with the bullet in time– last resort,” he pants while looking through the drawers.

“Which is what?” Fallon questions.

He pulls out a small saw making her and Stiles grow paler than him. “You’re gonna cut off my arm.”

“Me?!” Fallon shouts, about ready to go along with Stiles’ plan and run out of there.

“No,” he denies before glancing at freckles. “Stiles.”

“What?!” He screams the same way Fallon did. “No. No, no, no, no, no, that’s not fair! Why do I have to do it? She’s more heartless than I am, she can do it,” he points.

Fallon scoffs and goes to rip him a new one, but Derek cuts her off. “No, Fallon needs to hold me down.”

“Why can’t I do that?” Stiles throws his arms up.

“Because looking between the two of you, I can tell her arms won’t snap if I start to push back,” Derek insults. “I need someone with muscle to be able to keep me from squirming.”

Stiles looks more than offended, “I- I have muscle,” he counters.

Derek sends him a pointed look which makes the boy shrink in on himself. Fallon takes a nervous step forward, standing next to Derek as she gets ready to hold him down. I’ll just close my eyes, she tells herself. I won’t get nightmares. This’ll be fine.

“What if you start begging me to let go and it’s too late?” She asks him, her concerns growing with every second she stares at the saw.

“That’s not gonna happen,” he answers.

“How do you know?” She scoffs. The black veins in his arm are starting to become much more prominent. “What if you try to tell me to let go because you’re bleeding out and I don’t hear you? Then you die from getting your arm sawed off. I don’t want to watch you die.”

Derek leans further into the table, “It’ll heal if it works.”

Stiles eyes the saw with a sickly expression. He swallows thickly, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t know if I can do this,” he admits, his overactive imagination not doing him any favors.

“Why not?” Derek says impatiently.

Stiles looks at him like he’s stupid, “Well, because of the cutting through the flesh, the sawing of the bone, and especially the blood!” He lists off exasperatedly.

“You faint at the sight of blood?” Derek asks incredulously.

“No, but I might at the sight of a chopped-off arm!” Stiles screeches in response.

“All right, fine. How about this– either you cut off my arm, or I'm gonna cut off your head,” Derek threatens.

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Okay, you know what? I'm so not buying your threats any–” Derek cuts him off by yanking him forward by the collar of his shirt. Stiles’ eyes widen as he tries to get out of his hold. “Oh, my God!” He gasps. “Okay. All right. Bought. Sold. Totally. I'll do it. I'll do it.”

Derek let’s go of him, the boy pushing himself away from the older werewolf. He turns to say something to Fallon, but she can see the distant look on his face. “Derek, what’s wrong?” She asks attentively. Instead of answering, his cheeks puff out and he lurches forward. Her eyes widen and she tries to take a step back, covering her face with her arms. His mouth flies open and black projectile vomit comes out of his mouth, splattering all over her. She gasps as the hot liquid drips down her body.

Fallon exhales with a small whimper. She shakes her hands, some of the vomit flinging off of her fingers. “It’s fine…” she tries to convince herself. “Everything’s fine… I didn’t even like this shirt anyway.”

Stiles' jaw hits the floor, his own bile rising in his throat. “Holy God, what the hell is that?!”

Fallon turns to Stiles, her facial expression is blank. “Stiles,” she wipes her cheek. “Do what he says.”

“But–” he goes to point at the saw.

“Now!” She screams at him. Despite the vomit all over her, she walks behind Derek and gets a good grip on him. She holds his arm in place and glares at Stiles, “Do it, now.” She orders, nodding towards the saw.

He grabs the saw for a moment before looking up to protest, “Look, honestly, I don’t think I can–”

“Just do it!” Derek and Fallon yell at the same time.

Stiles jumps at how scary their symphony of voices sound together. “Oh, my God. Okay, okay…” He starts the saw, a loud sound accompanying it. He starts putting it towards Derek’s arm, “Oh, my God.... All right, here we go…”

“Stiles! Fallon!” Scott’s voice rings through the clinic.

“Scott?” Stiles looks hopeful, glancing away from the death tool in his hand.

When Scott runs in, the first thing he sees is Fallon practically pinning Derek down while Stiles holds a miniature saw to his arm. His lopsided jaw goes slack, “What the hell are you guys doing?”

Stiles turns the saw off, stepping away from it with a relieved smile. “Oh, you just prevented a lifetime of nightmares,” he thanks his best friend.

Fallon steps away from Derek, every step she takes coming with a small ‘squelch’ sound. “Speak for yourself,” she grumbles.

The older man looks at Scott eagerly, “Did you get it?��� He asks, searching for any sign of the bullet.

Scott reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small bullet and handing it to Derek. “What are you gonna do with it?” The brunette girl asks, wiping her face off with a towel she found near one of the kennels.

Derek holds the bullet up, “I’m gonna–” he stumbles, his speech much weaker. “I’m gonna–” Out of nowhere, the cure Scott worked so hard to find falls out of his fingers. Derek collapses, hitting the ground roughly as Scott and Stiles try to go after the bullet.

Fallon drops to her knees, eyes going wide as she stares at Derek’s unconscious form. She cups the side of his face with her right hand, shaking his shoulder with the other. He doesn’t move. “Derek! Derek, come on, wake up!” She pleads. Scott and Stiles are babbling in the distance, but she can’t understand a word they’re saying as her entire focus is on the almost dead man below her. Her eyes scan his body and her breath hitches when she notices his chest isn’t rising. She puts her fingers to his neck trying to find any sign of a pulse. It’s there, but not very strong. The weakest pulse she’s felt. Fallon wracks her brain for any kind of medical information she’s learned from the hospital to wake him up.

Her eyes lighten up as she leans forward, opening his mouth to see if there is any blockage. She notices chunks of the black vomit he spat at her earlier blocking his airway. She sticks her pointer and middle finger in his mouth, swiping out the liquid. She then quickly turns him on his side before putting her hand into a fist and hitting him in the back as hard as she can. His eyes shoot open, blue flashing across them as he coughs more blood on Fallon. She cringes but keeps patting his back to make sure all of it leaves his system.

“I got it!” Scott screams. “I got it!”

Stiles looks at Fallon with shock on his face, “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“The hospital,” she utters out quickly, bringing Derek to his feet. “I’ve seen Melissa do it on a choking baby. Obviously with much less force, but same principle.”

“Give me–” Derek gasps in pain as he takes the bullet from Scott’s hand, biting off the tip to expose where the gunpowder is. He empties it into his hand before pushing it forcefully into the wound. He howls loudly as blue smoke starts floating up from the gunshot hole. His face turns red as he falls back to the floor, writhing around in pain. His back arches upwards as he tries to fight against screaming anymore than he already has. Fallon watches in awe as his wound begins to heal at a rapid pace, the black veins slowly disappearing until the injury is completely gone.

“That… was… Awesome!” Stiles exclaims with a clap of his hands. He pumps his fist in the air as if they just got off of an amusement park ride. “Yes!”

“I’m gonna hit you,” Fallon tells him blatantly. Stiles’ face falls, but he knows better than to continue testing her. She walks closer to Derek, sticking her hand out to help him off the floor. “Are you okay?” She asks genuinely.

Derek accepts her offer, using her to get himself up. “Well, except for the agonizing pain…” he says sarcastically.

“I’m guessing the ability to use sarcasm is a good sign of health,” Stiles comments, crossing his arms. Derek sends a death stare his way making Fallon rolls her eyes as she moves away from him and over to where Stiles is standing.

“Okay, we saved your life, which means you're gonna leave us alone. You got that?” He instructs Derek. “And, if you don't, I'm gonna go back to Allison's dad, and I'm gonna tell him everything–” the threat is cut off by Derek who looks absolutely appalled by what he just said.

“You’re gonna trust them?!” He narrows his eyes. “You think they can help you?”

Scott shrugs his shoulders, “Well, why not?” He yells loudly. “They’re a lot freaking nicer than you are!”

Derek surges forward angrily, “I can show you exactly how nice they are.”

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

Fallon sighs tiredly as she parks her motorcycle in front of her house. Her eyes are practically closing as she trudges through the front door. Stiles had taken her back to the School to get her bike after Derek took Scott to show him how “evil” the Argents are. She closes the front door, a small click echoing behind her.

“Where have you been?”

Fallon flinches as the light to the living room suddenly flicks on. Michael is sitting in his chair in the living room, a book in his lap with a reading lamp sitting beside him. She looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.

“I asked you a question,” he says. “Where have you been? It’s two in the morning.” His voice is more than just concerned or worried. He’s disappointed.

Fallon places her helmet on the kitchen counter before turning back to her dad, “I was out with Scott and Stiles,” she answers.

“Doing what?” He continues questioning. “You all know there’s a police enforced curfew, right? None of you should be out this late, especially on a school night,” he crosses his arms as he walks over to his daughter. “You didn’t text, call, nothing. I had no idea where you were. Now, normally I don’t care because I know you’re responsible, and ninety percent of the time you’re with the boys. But with everything that’s going on, the murders, the dead bodies, you need to start being more communicative.”

“Dad, all we did was drive around,” she defends. “Stiles wanted to go get food and stuff after school, so we went and did that and just hung out around town.”

“Really?” He asks, disbelieving every word coming out of her mouth. “Just eating and driving around?”

“Yes,” she shrugs.

“Then why not shoot me a text?” He lifts an eyebrow. “I don’t think that’s too hard, do you?”

“No,” she sighs, getting tired of this conversation already. “I’m sorry. Next time I plan on being out late, I’ll let you know what I’m doing.”

“Oh no,” Michael shakes his head. “There will be no next time. From now on, you will be home by the enforced curfew time. If the boys want to come over and stay the night, you know I have no problem with that. But you will not leave this house anytime after that, do you understand me?”

Fallon scoffs, “Dad, are you serious?” She says upsetly.

“Dead serious young lady,” he nods. “I don’t want to leave my shift at the hospital getting a call from Noah saying that they found my daughter's dead body somewhere in the woods. It’s dangerous out there, Fallon. I’m not going to allow you to engage in reckless behavior. I’m your father. It’s my job to keep you safe. You might hate me now, but it’s for the best,” he shuts his lamp off, setting his book back on their shared bookshelf in the living room. “You can complain about me all you want to the boys, but I’ve made up my mind,” he walks over towards the stairs before glancing back at his daughter. “Now go to bed. You still have school in the morning. You get to deal with the consequence of being tired.”

She watches after her father, shock written all over her face. She just saved a man’s life and pretty much got grounded at the same time. Michael is a very easy going parent. She got lucky in the dad department, and she knows that. Seeing and hearing him talk to her like that isn’t common. They usually don’t have issues to this extent. They have a mutual trust. But if he’s really that worried that he’s willing to confine her to the house, she’s going to have to listen to him.

Or get a lot more creative on how to sneak out.

[haletostilinski]

Best Teen Wolf Ship: Round 3

[electricbluebutterflies]

Chris/Melissa + ❛  i  want  to  love  you  back  together .  ❜

Post-6B, PG-ish, also on ao3.

The last thing Melissa needed was another broken man to fix, but here she is anyways.

She has a type, and she’s stopped pretending she doesn’t; she has a type, and-

At least this one is cautious like she is. At least this one knows how to treat a woman.

She’s thinking about this curled up on the couch in her living room, thinking about how she’s always attracted strays even before the whole my-kid-is-a-werewolf of it all and this is somehow no different even though this is also a pretty and age-appropriate man who is currently running his fingers through her hair with appropriate caution for her curls and she’s going to melt and-

She has, against her better judgement, against a lifetime of evidence that she shouldn’t think about it, gone and fallen in love with him.

It would be hard not to, she thinks. Chris is… a few specific flavors of damaged human, yes, but she’d watched that develop and bloom well before she decided she wanted his hands on her, watched him prove himself before-

Fine. She also once thought about homewrecking in a parking lot and she would’ve done it too if things hadn’t taken that specific detour to hell and-

Point is, she knew. She saw him and she knew something was going to happen between them, and what actually has is a lot more…

He had to lose everything first, she reminds herself, and he did lose everything first, and what remained is somehow a decent man who’s made an effort for her and she can’t remember ever choosing that before and-

“This okay?” he asks, pausing with fingertips still on the base of her neck, still so tangled up in her hair but-

“Yeah, just thinking… I want to love you back together, and I know that’s not how it works but-“

She’s got damage too, she reminds herself as she shifts position and lets more of her body rest against his. She’s got a jerk of an ex-husband and a rogues gallery of people she shouldn’t have hooked up with in the decade or so since, and by comparison her romantic disasters feel like nothing at all but-

“You don’t have to. You don’t-“

“Want to,” she murmurs, turning her head to take a heartbeat of a kiss. “Want to. There’s a difference somewhere.”

If they break up, and she has already prepared herself for that possibility, it will be amicable. They will go on as they did before, take care of the kids together according to their separate skill sets, and it will be slightly awkward but he’ll still be second on her list of emergency contacts because at least he can answer his damn phone unlike some people and-

Alternatively, hopefully, this ends with a backyard wedding and the next thirty to forty years of her life curled up in this love, and she wants that more, and she hasn’t thought about doing anything legally binding since she got out of the last one but there’s something about this man that feels like permanence and home and-

“As long as that’s how you feel. I won’t… I can’t… if you’re not…”

“It is. Completely. I want you.”

For now they are undefined, for now they are definitely seeing each other and neither of them is seeing anyone else – neither of them has time or energy for that, Melissa thinks – but not with direction, but someday maybe…

It could be nice to keep him around, if he’d let her. Nice to build this structure into her life forever.

But those are conversations for later, for months if not years down the line. For now there is only this, two people curled up on a couch, comfortable and safe and-

“You don’t have to-“

“I’m choosing you. Let me choose you.”

[superherocapturedbydemons]

I got deep stuck in Abbott Elementary fanfic last night and I turned on this week's episode and honestly forgot for a second that most of those couples are not Canon 💀💀

[fiction-justanotherstateofmind]

I just realized that they made Chris and Melissa break up due to Scallison.

O M G

[jeridandridge]

I love this interview and especially the part about Chris 🥲🥲