argentum_ls (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
argentum_ls) wrote2011-11-12 02:11 am
argentum_ls) wrote2011-11-12 02:11 am
Fanfic: The Deal [Teen Wolf]
Summary: Stiles once made a deal that he can't regret.
Word Count: 1018
Author's Note: Tomorrow is my birthday. One of my very first fandom friends had a tradition of celebrating her birthday by giving a present to the fandom in the form of new fic. I decided to learn from her.
Stiles’s mother had never liked the snake. She only consented to it because his father had lobbied so hard, and she couldn’t refuse him anything. The giveaway was when she started leaving Stiles’s cleaned and folded laundry in a pile next to his door instead of putting it away like she had always done before. Other than refusing to enter his room, which is where he kept the terrarium, she never said anything. When he mentioned the reptile, which he liked to do because it was his first pet and he was the only one he knew who owned a boa constrictor, her cheeks went tight and her eyes lost their sparkle—but she never said anything.
So when she got sick and Stiles started cutting deals with any deity he thought might listen, the first thing he promised was that if she got better, he would get rid of the snake. To his eleven-year-old mind, it seemed like a fitting trade: one love for another. He first thought of taking the boa out to the forest preserve and letting it go free, but then he had a nightmare about being the boa, let loose in an environment it wasn’t adapted for and couldn’t understand, and he woke up with his chest constricting as if the snake had gotten free and decided to preemptively eat him for dinner. After that, he apologized to the snake, assured him that he’d seen the error of his thinking, and was extra careful about latching the lid on the terrarium.
The next time he went to the pet store for mice, he took a flyer he’d made himself offering the boa free to a good home and gave it to the clerk. The next time he went to the hospital, he brought flowers and a small box of candy (even though his mother couldn’t eat it), and tried so hard not to bounce on the balls of his feet at the excitement of the news he wanted to give her, but couldn’t yet.
They moved her to ICU and tried to stop him from visiting, but his dad fixed that.
No one called about the snake.
It was now clear to him that he had to uphold his end of the deal first, so he started talking up the benefits of snake ownership to the deputies at the police station: no fur (which meant no allergies), no paper training, no “accidents” on the floor to come home to after work. There were a couple of polite offers from people who could read between the lines, but Stiles could tell they didn’t really mean it.
He found a pamphlet for something called Hospice behind the toaster. He read it, threw up in the sink, then loaded the snake into his carrier and bicycled to the pet store. The clerk squinted at him as if he thought he might have seen the younger boy before, but wasn’t sure. Stiles dumped the carrier on the counter. “I have to get rid of my boa so my mom doesn’t die,” he said. In his head, the cause and effect was obvious. The clerk rolled his eyes, scoffed, and turned to deal with another customer who had come to the counter lugging a bag of bird food.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear…” she said, waving off the clerk’s attention. She asked the snake’s name and listened as Stiles repeated his explanation for being at the store. She didn’t even hesitate in her offer. “I work with a wildlife educational service,” she explained. There was more, something about how the service toured schools and tried to broaden kids’ knowledge of wildlife and exotic animals. Stiles didn’t really listen to all of it; he had such a good feeling about her that he didn’t need to. His snake went home with her. Maybe knowing that his pet was going to do something important made it a little easier.
His mom came home two days later, but not for hospice. The word everyone used was miracle, but Stiles knew better. He cleaned up his room, did the laundry and put it away without being asked, and didn’t say anything. Ever.
Years later, she surprised him with an ad she’d cut from the newspaper. A wildlife educational show was touring the local elementary schools, and she thought they should go. The school was three towns over, the last night of winter break and he had to be up early for school, and really he was too old. But how could he turn her down?
One of the animals was his boa. The wrangler recognized Stiles right away when he went up for a picture. Not only did she refuse to take his money, but she invited him behind the scenes to see all the animals up close. He didn’t know if the snake remembered him. Probably not. But a niggling worry he didn’t know he’d been carrying vanished when he saw how big the snake had grown, how much care the wrangler showed in handling him, how much delight the kids got in seeing and learning about the creature.
His mother stayed in the audience seats until he was done, a smile playing on her lips.
When they got home from the show, his father was gone. The police had been called to the forest preserve to investigate a dead body that had turned up.
Stiles sat down on the couch with his mother. Between them lay the digital picture taken at the show of him with the boa draped across his arms. The camera had caught the snake with his tongue out next to Stiles’s cheek, almost like a kiss. His mother’s eyes sparkled as she touched the picture. “You really loved that boa,” she said.
“Eh,” he answered. “It was just a snake.” He smiled at his mother, the satisfaction at the success of his secret deal warming him. He rested his head on her shoulder; she wrapped her arm around his back and pulled him close.
The moment said everything.
He went to bed early that night.
END
For AU Bingo square #3: alt. history: someone didn’t die.
Word Count: 1018
Author's Note: Tomorrow is my birthday. One of my very first fandom friends had a tradition of celebrating her birthday by giving a present to the fandom in the form of new fic. I decided to learn from her.
Stiles’s mother had never liked the snake. She only consented to it because his father had lobbied so hard, and she couldn’t refuse him anything. The giveaway was when she started leaving Stiles’s cleaned and folded laundry in a pile next to his door instead of putting it away like she had always done before. Other than refusing to enter his room, which is where he kept the terrarium, she never said anything. When he mentioned the reptile, which he liked to do because it was his first pet and he was the only one he knew who owned a boa constrictor, her cheeks went tight and her eyes lost their sparkle—but she never said anything.
So when she got sick and Stiles started cutting deals with any deity he thought might listen, the first thing he promised was that if she got better, he would get rid of the snake. To his eleven-year-old mind, it seemed like a fitting trade: one love for another. He first thought of taking the boa out to the forest preserve and letting it go free, but then he had a nightmare about being the boa, let loose in an environment it wasn’t adapted for and couldn’t understand, and he woke up with his chest constricting as if the snake had gotten free and decided to preemptively eat him for dinner. After that, he apologized to the snake, assured him that he’d seen the error of his thinking, and was extra careful about latching the lid on the terrarium.
The next time he went to the pet store for mice, he took a flyer he’d made himself offering the boa free to a good home and gave it to the clerk. The next time he went to the hospital, he brought flowers and a small box of candy (even though his mother couldn’t eat it), and tried so hard not to bounce on the balls of his feet at the excitement of the news he wanted to give her, but couldn’t yet.
They moved her to ICU and tried to stop him from visiting, but his dad fixed that.
No one called about the snake.
It was now clear to him that he had to uphold his end of the deal first, so he started talking up the benefits of snake ownership to the deputies at the police station: no fur (which meant no allergies), no paper training, no “accidents” on the floor to come home to after work. There were a couple of polite offers from people who could read between the lines, but Stiles could tell they didn’t really mean it.
He found a pamphlet for something called Hospice behind the toaster. He read it, threw up in the sink, then loaded the snake into his carrier and bicycled to the pet store. The clerk squinted at him as if he thought he might have seen the younger boy before, but wasn’t sure. Stiles dumped the carrier on the counter. “I have to get rid of my boa so my mom doesn’t die,” he said. In his head, the cause and effect was obvious. The clerk rolled his eyes, scoffed, and turned to deal with another customer who had come to the counter lugging a bag of bird food.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear…” she said, waving off the clerk’s attention. She asked the snake’s name and listened as Stiles repeated his explanation for being at the store. She didn’t even hesitate in her offer. “I work with a wildlife educational service,” she explained. There was more, something about how the service toured schools and tried to broaden kids’ knowledge of wildlife and exotic animals. Stiles didn’t really listen to all of it; he had such a good feeling about her that he didn’t need to. His snake went home with her. Maybe knowing that his pet was going to do something important made it a little easier.
His mom came home two days later, but not for hospice. The word everyone used was miracle, but Stiles knew better. He cleaned up his room, did the laundry and put it away without being asked, and didn’t say anything. Ever.
Years later, she surprised him with an ad she’d cut from the newspaper. A wildlife educational show was touring the local elementary schools, and she thought they should go. The school was three towns over, the last night of winter break and he had to be up early for school, and really he was too old. But how could he turn her down?
One of the animals was his boa. The wrangler recognized Stiles right away when he went up for a picture. Not only did she refuse to take his money, but she invited him behind the scenes to see all the animals up close. He didn’t know if the snake remembered him. Probably not. But a niggling worry he didn’t know he’d been carrying vanished when he saw how big the snake had grown, how much care the wrangler showed in handling him, how much delight the kids got in seeing and learning about the creature.
His mother stayed in the audience seats until he was done, a smile playing on her lips.
When they got home from the show, his father was gone. The police had been called to the forest preserve to investigate a dead body that had turned up.
Stiles sat down on the couch with his mother. Between them lay the digital picture taken at the show of him with the boa draped across his arms. The camera had caught the snake with his tongue out next to Stiles’s cheek, almost like a kiss. His mother’s eyes sparkled as she touched the picture. “You really loved that boa,” she said.
“Eh,” he answered. “It was just a snake.” He smiled at his mother, the satisfaction at the success of his secret deal warming him. He rested his head on her shoulder; she wrapped her arm around his back and pulled him close.
The moment said everything.
He went to bed early that night.
END
For AU Bingo square #3: alt. history: someone didn’t die.