Florilegium

write it!

Guess who just submitted her Acoustics final?? THIS BITCH. I don’t have to think about natural frequency isolators and static deflection ever again. I probably will, but I don’t have to. 

Anyway I totally took your advice and wrote this to celebrate. My original thought was more along the lines of Stiles being a little shit, but then this happened.

“Peter. Pet’r. Pete. Pee. Peeeeeeeeee-”

Peter gently took the hand that was pawing at his shoulder and held it between his own, resting all three of them on the hospital bed that Stiles was laying on. 

“Jesus, what did they give him?” Derek asked with furrowed eyebrows. 

“He had appendicitis, Derek, they gave him what he needed,” Peter scolded.

“-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-”

Derek was amazed he was still going. Clearly his lung capacity hadn’t been affected. 

“This is worse than his twenty first birthday.”

“You are free to go, dear nephew,” Peter said bitingly. 

Derek looked at his uncle dubiously. Stiles and Peter had started dating a few months ago, but he still didn’t quite trust him with their most human pack member. 

“Peter!” Stiles got more insistent. 

“Yes sweetheart?” said Peter. 

“Peter. I have to tell you somefi- something.”

Peter looked cautious. “Stiles, if this is important, maybe we should have this conversation when you’re less.. morphined.”

“No. I hafta ask you. Come here.” 

Peter leaned further into the bed. Derek took a step closer, on edge while Stiles was so vulnerable. 

“Peter. Listen. Pete and Pete- no. Wait. Repete-” Stiles looked confused for a minute before he smiled and his brow smoothed out. “Pete and Repete were in a boat. Pete fell out. Who was left?”

Derek slapped a hand to his face. This was it. His uncle was going to dump Stiles right after surgery, while he was drugged up to the ears, and Derek was going to have to explain what happened when Stiles woke up for real, and-

“Repete,” Peter said, smiling softly. 

“Pete and Repete were in a boat! Pete fell out. Who was left?” Stiles was smiling even bigger. 

Derek stared in amazement as Peter once again answered, “Repete.”

“Pete and Pete- no, Repete and Pete were in a boat ‘n Pete fell out, who was left?”

“Repete, darling.”

Stiles gave a single silent giggle before cringing and bringing a hand up to his side. Peter’s adoring look immediately changed to one of concern. 

“Maybe you should try to sleep some more,” he suggested. 

“’m too funny. Too good at jokes.” Stiles’ eyes were already halfway closed. “Gotta suffer for m’ art. You should stop falling out of boats…” 

And he was out. 

Peter sat back, smoothing Stiles’ hair as he went. His head jerked up as he realized the third heartbeat in the room had gone. He shrugged internally. Derek could stay or go, it made no difference. Peter wouldn’t be leaving until Stiles did. 

Outside, walking to his car, Derek grinned to himself. Not only was Peter genuinely in love with Stiles, but he was willing to show it in front of people. They were good for each other.

Summary:  Jack bumps into the same beautiful stranger at the bus stop every day.  Will he gather the courage to speak to him? Inspired by this song by The Hollies.  

He supposed he could take a cab, an Uber, anything else – but the quiet anonymity the bus afforded him was one of the simpler things Jack Zimmermann was thankful for and truly enjoyed. For what reason would an NHL multimillionaire have for taking public transit? No one ever paid him any attention, and he was perfectly fine with that.

He walked the three blocks to the bus stop and stood quietly, sipping his coffee in his Je ♥ Montréal travel mug that he bought the last time he traveled through Trudeau airport. His SUV had only been in the shop four days, but he continued taking the bus whenever he could even after it had been repaired.

It was the preseason and things, although quite busy, were still somewhat relaxed. And during this time, Jack’s routine was the same. He’d walk two blocks, stop at The Roast to fill his travel mug, then walk one more block to the bus stop. He’d ride the 30 minutes to the arena, serenely and without fuss, then get off two blocks before rather than right in front. He’d take a Lyft back to his apartment, or hitch a ride with Tater who would drive by Jack’s place on his way home.

And so it went for a few weeks, until one day he had just taken his seat and as the bus began to pull away he heard a voice call out.

“Wait! Oh, lord! Please wait!”