The disgusted look on Scott's face would have been justified if Stiles had held a glass of excrements in his face.

"I don't drink orange juice, you know this."

"It's full of vitamin C and that will help you get better, you know this," Stiles countered, "come on, Scott, what's so bad about a little bit of innocent orange juice?"

Stiles held the glass a little closer to Scott's mouth. Scott turned away his face.

"It tastes awful, for starters," Scott stated.

"Oh, don't be such a were-baby!" Stiles cried out.

"I never liked it and I never will. Why can't I have Kiwis? Kiwis have a lot of vitamin C, too," Scott persisted.

"How are you going to be a big Alpha werewolf one day if you can't deal with a tiny glass of orange juice?" Stiles argued.

Scott sighed. "You are not giving up until I drink it, are you?"

"Maybe you won't taste it as much if you drain it in one go," Stiles helpfully suggested.

"Give here," Scott said as he grudgingly took the glass from Stiles' hand.

The boy put the glass to his lips and emptied the glass in three big gulps.

"Yuk," he concluded.

"You'll thank me later," Stiles said as he sat down on Scott's bed, rather pleased.

"Remember when I used to be sick, mom always bought apple juice?" Scott asked.

"I sure do. You drank gallons of the stuff. I also remember that we played cards a lot. Hey, you wanna play cards?" Stiles said, already reaching for the drawer where he knew Scott kept a deck of cards.

"No, thanks. maybe you can read me 1984 for a bit," Scott answered.

Stiles froze with his hand on the drawer's handle. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Scott said, laying down on his left side, supporting his head with his left hand, "why not?"

"Because it's boring," Stiles confessed.

"It's not boring," Scott said resolutely.

"Uneventful, then," Stiles said.

"It may get more eventful, you don't know that," Scott reasoned.

"True," Stiles admitted.

With a hardly suppressed sigh he took the book from Scott's nightstand.

"Where do I start?"

"Down the left page, 'The proles are not human beings'," Scott said.

"The who?" Stiles asked surprised.

"The proles, the proletariat, the working class," Scott clarified.

With an understanding nod Stiles opened the book and started reading.

"'The proles are not human beings,' he said carelessly," Stiles read, "'by 2050 – earlier probably – all real knowledge of Oldspeak will have disappeared. The whole literature of the past will have been destroyed. Chaucer, Shakespeare, Milton, Byron – they'll exist only in Newspeak versions, not merely changed into something different, but actually changed into something contradictory of what they used to be.'"

"Wow, a world without the Bard. Where can I sign up?" Stiles teased.

"Hey, I read Twelfth Night, Shakespeare's great," Scott said.

"Yes, well, you're the literature nerd."

"You're a nerd, too," Scott said.

"I'm a geek, that's different," Stiles replied.

"Whatever, are you reading or not?"

"Alright, okay, I'll read. Don't get your yellow stockings in a twist."

Scott chuckled.

"I knew you would get it," Stiles said, with a little smile on his face.