FIGHT ME.

arrafrost:

torakodragon:

● ヮ ●

*rolls up sleeves* Time for Part 4 of the Couch Sega. (one, two, three)

Stiles hand reached automatically into the bowl of popcorn seated on the cushion next to him. His eyes remained fixed on the words of the text before him as he brought the snack up to his face, munching loudly on the buttery treat. His eyes raced across the page, absorbing everything he could for his History text tomorrow. It was hard to keep up with the syllabus between pack meetings and nearly being killed, flayed, or kidnapped every weekend - the intent of those kidnapping him remained questionable.

As he reached over to the bowl once again, he heard a faint whine behind him, that of a dog rather than a person. 

“No, you know you’re banned from the couch,” Stiles called over the back of the couch, not looking up from the pages, “and for good reason too. I never get any work done when we’re both on a couch. It’s like a curse. A gypsy curse… you haven’t pissed any vagrants off have you, Der?”

The wolf growled lowly from behind the sofa where Stiles had banished him to. He was loyal though, hadn’t moved from the spot to where Stiles could see him, not once. And this was the first time he’d made any noise. He was proud of the patience he was exhibiting for once.

“You’re stuck there for another five pages. Almost done.”

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