Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters: Stiles Stilinksi, Derek Hale
Word Count: 656
Warnings: No beta
“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned, throwing his hands in the air and accidentally smacking one into an outcropping of rock. “This cannot get any more cliché. Wait, no, it totally can. Please tell me that Beacon Hills hasn’t done the impossible again and that there are no bears squatting a bit further back.”
“There are no bears, Stiles,” Derek said from somewhere off to the right.
Stiles squinted fruitlessly in the direction he thought Derek’s voice had come from.
“And don’t screw up your face like that, you look ridiculous.”
“You look ridiculous,” Stiles responded, capping that ultra-mature statement by poking his tongue out.
There was silence, and Stiles started to feel a little uneasy. “Derek?” he said, hoping that his trepidation wasn’t obvious in his voice.
“What?” Derek replied from right behind Stiles’ ear.
Stiles did not let out an unmanly shriek as he jumped what felt like three feet in the air. And if the high pitched noise hurt a certain werewolf’s sensitive ears, well good.
“Congratulations,” Stiles said when he’d calmed his racing heart somewhat. “That’s another five years you’ve taken off my life. Why couldn’t I have been stuck in here with someone else? Anyone else? Like Lydia, or Scott!”
“Well, maybe not Jackson,” Stiles allowed.
“Also, Scott is the reason we’re stuck here in the first place,” Derek pointed out.
“So, you’ve checked out the back of the cave then?” Stiles asked, avoiding the subject of Scott and his habit of blaming Derek for everything that went wrong. Loudly, and sometimes within earshot of other supernatural creatures
Which in this case had led to them being chased by incensed harpies, who now also blamed Derek for the death of one of their flock when Stiles was almost certain it was the vodyanoy that had taken up residence in the river that was to blame.
He’d tried suggesting that to the harpies, but they weren’t the most rational creatures at the best of times and preferred their men either captive or in a stew. Stiles had managed to get a quick text off to Lydia at some point during their graceless flight, hoping that she would have better luck explaining things. Then he’d dropped his phone, so he had no idea if she even got the message, let alone if she’d replied.
Thank goodness harpies were pathologically frightened of enclosed spaces, otherwise, Stiles and Derek would likely have been ripped to pieces. A werewolf and a human were no match for a score of harpies, not even if the werewolf was an Alpha.
“It’s not that deep,” Derek replied. “There’s nothing else here.”
There were some scuffling noises and the rasping click of a disposable lighter. A moment later there was a flare of light.
“You didn’t think to mention you had a lighter before?” Stiles asked irritably.
“I wanted to make sure we were alone in here,” Derek said unapologetically. His face was wreathed in shadow, and he looked like some dramatic movie villain. A really gorgeous dramatic movie villain.
Derek’s brow wrinkled slightly, and the look he cast at Stiles was half amazed and half exasperated.
“What?” Stiles said defensively. “I’m a healthy teenage boy, stuck in an enclosed space with someone who could double as an underwear model. What did you expect?”
Actually, perhaps thinking about Derek modelling underwear wasn’t the best thing he could be doing in this situation.
Derek shook his head, but Stiles could see the tiny smile curving his lips.
Shit. If Stiles wanted to get out of this situation with any dignity left whatsoever, then Scott and Lydia had better get a move on.
Derek sat down on a wide outcropping of rock. “Come on over here,” he said, and Stiles wondered if he was imagining the hesitancy he could hear. “You don’t want to catch a chill.”
Hmmm. Actually, perhaps Scott and Lydia could take however damn long they liked.