Sterek Stories - A Collection - I

Summoning a demon - part 8

My treat

Having Covid sucks. It really does. Stiles is winded from walking down the long hallway to the communal bathroom just a little too fast, for fuck's sake! When he gets there, he has to sit down first on one of the plastic stools before he can think about getting a shower. At least the fever went away after the first few days and he no longer feels like his brain is scrambled in a washing machine. He's just so fucking tired all the time.

When he gets out of the shower he finds the door of his room open and Derek inside. The demon, in his human form, is crouched down in front of his fridge, loading it up with groceries from a burlap shopping bag.
"You went to that organic store again?" Stiles asks, eyeing the green logo on the bag. "You know that's way too expensive."

"But you like their trail mix," Derek counters, showing Stiles the bag of mixed nuts and dried fruit he brought. "I bought most of the other stuff at that obnoxious chain store."

"They're cheap," Stiles shrugs, putting away his toiletries and hanging his towel to dry over the door of his closet. He flops down on his bed, legs hanging over the edge and his head resting on the pillow roll that sits against the wall. He watches Derek fold up the now empty shopping bag before a twist of his hand makes the thing disappear into nothing. It's a pretty cool trick, which Derek refuses to explain to him. The demon is the kind of person that brings his own shopping bags to the store, who likes to shop at the organic store and, Stiles suspects, goes to the farmer's market on Saturday mornings. He hasn't gotten Derek to admit to that particular habit yet, but it fits right in with the rest, so it must be true.
"Thank you for doing this," he says earnestly, propping himself up on his elbows to look at Derek properly. "I really appreciate it."

The demon leans back against Stiles' desk, crossing his ankles and leaning on the edges with his hands. "You don't have to say that every time I bring you groceries."

"I kinda do, dude." Stiles nods for emphasis. The demon has been doing his grocery shopping for almost three weeks now, on top of coming by every day - sometimes even twice a day - to check on him when he was still bedridden. He's not over that often anymore, but Stiles still sees him at least every other day. It's nice.

"Don't call me dude."

"I don't know, man, it kinda rolls off the tongue, you know? With the whole D-thing you've got going on: Demon. Derek. Dude. I like alliteration!"

Derek rolls his eyes in exaggerated annoyance and Stiles smirks, wrecking his brain to think of other fitting D-words to call Derek. He doesn't want it to be an offensive one, because quite frankly, the demon has been a lifesaver these past few weeks - and before, if he's being honest. He certainly has made being stuck in a college dorm during a pandemic a lot more enjoyable over the past months. So calling Derek a dick or a douchebag is so far down on the list, Stiles can't even see it. Problem is, all his brain can come up with right now is words like 'dear' and 'darling'. And he's not gonna call Derek that either! Thinking it is one thing, saying it is another. They're not... Well, they're not that. They're friends. Stiles Stilinski is friends with a demon from another dimension. Good friends even. He might even call Derek his best friend. He certainly is right now, no offense to Scott. Scott is like his brother in all but blood, Derek is...

Derek is the one who took care of him when he was sick. Now, being sick is quite the solo activity, but it's awfully nice when you've got someone to check on you. Someone who makes sure you eat well, who cleans out the trash can when it's topped up with crumpled tissues, who even helps you to the shower when you start feeling too gross to even sleep yet can't muster the energy to get up from your bed. It is a memorable moment that they don't talk about. They don't mention how Derek gathered all Stiles' supplies, how he put a plastic stool in the shower for Stiles to sit on, how he supported Stiles with a steadying arm around his shoulders when he walked to the bathroom on legs that threatened to give up any second. Or how he waited patiently for Stiles to get out of the shower, dressed only in boxer shorts, to help him back to bed. He'd even dried Stiles hair for him, because lifting his arms up to do it himself had been too much of an effort. The whole thing had been done in near silence, they didn't talk apart from simple instructions or short words of thanks. And they didn't talk about it afterwards either. Stiles was in need of help and Derek was there to offer it, that was all there was to it. The demon had said something similar about him doing the grocery shopping for Stiles, he just did it because he wanted to help.