A/N: Help, I can't stop writing these two! This one is a bit shorter, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. It's full of fluffy fluff. Leave a review and let me know what you think. :D
Erica's breathing was hard but slow, exhausted from the release of the venom from her wrist (now painfully broken), and she was still not able to fully move. Her skin was slick with sweat and her hair fell in tousled curls over Stiles' lap. She looked up at him, her eyes blinking rapidly, still filled with tears from the agony. He looked concerned. And sort of scared. But so... what was the word? Perhaps gallant. Not gallant in the classic hero way. Gallant in the under-appreciated hero way, the sort of hero that snuck up on you and saved you without even realizing it himself.
Scott and Derek had both left by now, their voices low outside the bus in murmured discussion. But Stiles stayed behind, still allowing her to rest on him. He had not said anything the entire time; he'd just smoothed her hair and squeezed her arm as if for reassurance.
But when she looked up at Stiles now, as he stared off into the distance, there was a sort of thoughtful hesitancy in his expression, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how to. He appeared to be troubled.
Abruptly, he met her gaze, and Erica started. She wasn't expecting him to look at her so suddenly. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, he cut her off.
"I did notice you."
Caught off guard, Erica furrowed her brow, but said nothing.
Stiles took a deep, shaky breath. "I mean… you said that I never noticed you," he tried to explain. "I did. I saw you. I knew your condition, I just… I didn't know how to approach you without it seeming like pity. No one did, I think."
Erica felt her head swim a little in the light of this outburst. She looked away from him and stared hard at the wall. "You didn't notice me in the way that I wish you had," she said, her voice barely audible.
Stiles nodded slowly. "I know that now… I'm sorry."
They both stayed there without saying anything for a little while. Erica's mind was racing, her heart pounding. The venom was beginning to fully leave her system now, making her more susceptible to touch; before, she could not feel Stiles because she was numb, but now she could feel him under her and for some reason it made her nervous. She had forgotten what it felt like to feel nervous since she had turned. The confidence and satisfaction of being beautiful and desired had consumed her. Or, rather, she had consumed it. Erica had absolutely fed and thrived on the newfound attention. She felt she deserved it because of what her peers had put her through. Now she was this close to the person she had liked since middle school; the person she had watched and daydreamed about when she was plain, old, epileptic Erica.
It was making her automatically uneasy, like some sort of schoolgirl, and Erica didn't like it.
"Sorry for hitting you with a carburetor," Erica said into the quiet of the bus, and Stiles jumped a little in surprise. Then he laughed quietly.
"Uh- that was a little overdue," he said, sounding amused.
"-And for throwing you in the dumpster."
"Yeah, that wasn't too much fun either. Not a good place to wake up in."
Erica mulled over her own thoughts for a minute before she said, "I think I was a little more violent with you because… I don't know, I was angry at you for never really paying attention to me before or whatever."
"Hey, at least I'm paying attention to you now!" Stiles said, shifting a bit, absentmindedly twirling a piece of Erica's hair in his fingers. "Granted, the whole hot werewolf factor kind of helped. Or, well, more like it was entirely the reason for said attention. And maiming me, throwing me in with a bunch of garbage, that definitely helps you stick in a guy's memory too. You're pretty unforgettable, Erica." He said this last part with a joking tone, but as the words left his mouth, Stiles realized it was true. Erica was unforgettable. She harbored a lot of anger, true, but she was also filled with determination. A determination that existed even before she was bitten.
She had gone back to climb that wall, after all.
There was a beat of silence before Erica turned her head towards Stiles and look up at him, a small smile on her lips.
"Thanks," she murmured, her voice nothing but a throaty whisper, as if this whole exchange had taken any energy she had left right out of her. Her eyes searched his, as if trying to find something. The tension was thick, palpable, and it honestly scared her. Lying here on Stiles' lap, she felt completely vulnerable. It was as if the confession of her feelings had caught up to her. But she was a werewolf now; shouldn't she be confident enough to not care how he reacted?
Except this was Stiles. No matter how blunt and self-assured she seemed, it was different around Stiles. Around Stiles, the bluntness almost seemed forced, as if she was pushing it just so she could try to avoid the lingering shakiness of infatuation she still felt around him. It was goddamn annoying that Stiles did this to her.
He blinked, realizing that they'd been staring at each other without saying anything, and Erica (with some satisfaction) noted that a bit of color was rising in his face. Bodies betrayed you like that. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Erica, not wanting to delve into the tricky world of feelings at the moment, stated quickly, "My wrist hurts like hell."
Stiles snorted. "Yeah, getting it snapped will do that to you." Then he shuddered. "Jesus, even just saying it is painful."
Erica felt her eyelids grow heavy. She felt ready to sleep for a long time, but had the vague desire to stay awake, because if she slept, Stiles might not be there when she woke up. She gave a deep sigh, grasping his arm with what little mobility she had left. "Thanks for staying with me, Batman."
Stiles smiled, even though she couldn't see because she was falling asleep. "Anytime, Catwoman."