"I fucked up," says Eros miserably. "Oh god, I fucked up."
"Honey," says the Tooth Fairy, looking at his sash with a mixture of sympathy and distaste, "that’ll wash out."
"Oh, no, not that," he says, glancing at his sash - oh, wow, that is a lot of vomit - “I made someone fall in love with a table.”
"Sugar," says the Tooth Fairy. "Fudge. What are you gonna do?”
"What can I do?! You and I both know there ain’t no cure for love. That’s why my job is supposed to be a sacred trust! I can’t believe I let mom down this badly. It’s that fucking Bunny’s fault.”
"She is a bad influence," says the Tooth Fairy, "but what do you expect? She’s made out of chocolate."
"That’s ignorant," says Eros. "Can you please try to keep your personal politics out of this? What am I supposed to do?"
"There’s only one person who can help you," says the Tooth Fairy haughtily, "and nobody’s seen her for a long time.”
Jalissa wasn’t exactly looking forward to this date, but she needs someone to distract her from Chad dumping her.
"I know the perfect guy for you," her colleague Allison had said. "He’s, like, the complete opposite of your type. Which is exactly what you need."
Allison was right on the money. Stiles is, physically, not what she goes for at all, but he’s attentive and self-aware and listens when she talks. Maybe she could even get used to this.
Everything’s going fine until they get back to his place. He pours them each a glass of wine (she’s not much of a wine drinker, but it tastes mid-range) and takes the couch, while she takes the armchair kitty-corner to it. They’re talking and laughing and drinking, and it all seems pretty okay until she accidentally kicks the leg of the coffee table and Stiles winces.
"Oh, I’m sorry," she says. "Is it… antique?"
"No, he’s - it’s - fine. Sorry, I was - carry on."
She’s about to put her wine down on the table, when she stops herself. “Do you want me to use a coaster?”
Stiles stares guiltily at the table. “That’s not important,” he says. He looks miserable.
"Stiles?" she prompts gently.
"I’m sorry," he says. "You’re great. I’m just - I can’t lie to you. I can’t lie to myself anymore. I’m, uh… involved.”
"Then why did you - I’m sorry, I get that you’re going through something or whatever, but why did you agree to date me?"
"It wasn’t really. I didn’t think it was. I don’t know if it’s… ?"
"Is it an internet thing?" she asks knowingly. He doesn’t respond, so she figures that’s a ‘yes’.
"Hey, whatever, don’t worry about it."
Stiles puts his head down on the table. “Please forgive me,” he says plaintively.
"It’s completely fine," says Jalissa. It’s kind of a lie, but hey, she got a free meal out of this. Also, the dude is starting to give her the heebie-jeebies, quite frankly.
Stiles’s head shoots up. “Yeah,” he says, in a completely different tone of voice, like he just remembered she was there. “I’ll call you a cab. I’ll pay. Sorry.” He pats the table.
"Am I glad I caught you," says Eros, jogging to keep up with the Leprechaun.
"Can this wait? It’s my busy day, don’t you know, and I’m behind already."
"This’ll only take a second, just - do you have any idea of the whereabouts of the Blue Fairy?"
The Leprechaun turns to glare at him. “Now listen here, my laddie,” he says. “Just because we’re next to each other on the color wheel doesn’t mean we know each other!”
"I’m sorry," says Eros despondently. "I just thought it was worth a shot."
"All right, I know you didn’t mean any harm. Keep on reaching for that rainbow, eh?"
"Good luck out there today, Bunny," says Eros, blushing pink when she gives him a Hershey’s Kiss.
"Why so blue, my man?" she says.
"I just… you’re so good at what you do, and I’m a total screw-up."
"You still sore about that table thing? You know, one time I left a milk chocolate egg for a lactose intolerant kid. We all make mistakes."
"Not like this! I’m trying to fix it, but…"
"Hey, sweetie, you’re doing your best. Don’t be so hard on yourself. I gotta go."
Not for the first time, Stiles wakes up on the couch. He drifts off to sleep here all the time these days. Right next to the coffee table. If anybody ever asks, it’s because he “fell asleep watching TV” - he’s still lying to everyone else, even if he’s admitted it to himself. He googled it - “object sexuality”. And honestly, it could be a lot worse. Some people are married to landmarks - at least he gets to see his table every day. Doesn’t have to get jealous of thousands of people staring at it and touching it, taking photos with it - his hands clench into fists at the thought. He strokes his table.
Stiles hates Mother’s Day. It’s the worst holiday ever. He tells this to his table. The table agrees. He can tell.
He drinks a lot of whiskey, and falls asleep on his table.
Eros isn’t Uncle Sam’s biggest fan. Uncle Sam has a lot of ideas about love which don’t really sit well with him. But he loves fireworks. It’s while he’s watching the fireworks, in fact, that he has a brainwave. He knows exactly what he has to do. He just needs to wait a little bit longer.
August 12th (the Perseid meteor shower)
"I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight."
The Blue Fairy appears, distant at first, surrounded by a glorious shimmer. “I know your wish,” she says sweetly. “You have been very patient. Your mother sends her regards.”
Stiles wakes up with a start. His table is gone. He panics and falls off the couch.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" says a voice. "Why’d you sleep on the couch?"
Stiles looks up. “Derek,” he says with relief. “I had the weirdest dream. You were a table. And then I woke up and you weren’t there!”
"Because I slept in our bed, like a functional human being."
"It’s my very best quality," says Derek tonelessly.
Stiles stares up at him, dazed. “Have you always been this sexy? I gotta get my hands on you. I have this feeling like I haven’t kissed you in forever.” He clambers up and attaches himself to Derek like a limpet. “Have you always had those arms? Holy Mary Mother of God, have you seen your arms?”
Derek shoves him off. “You’re psychotic. I need coffee before I can deal with this.”
"Okay," says Stiles dreamily. "I love you."
Derek pauses, and turns around. A slow smile blooms across his face, and he looks away, almost shy. “Shut up,” he says.