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Sometimes, Derek thought his entire life was just one big cosmic joke. He was the lead in a TV series that was being watched by millions—okay, maybe not millions, but a good couple thousand at least!—and they called in to the studio on a daily basis and said, “Hey, wouldn’t it be great if this happened to Derek on the show?” And the writers would just be like, “Oh shit, you right!” and hasten to fit that in for the next episode.
Because really, nobody’s life could possibly be this messed up. Ever. Clearly anything that happened to him was just part of the TV show where they wanted him to suffer and laugh about it.
Derek’s life had been better lately! He’d returned to Beacon Hills with Stiles in tow. He’d gotten himself a decent job, things had calmed down Supernatural-wise, he and Stiles had finally stopped skirting around one another and were dating. Things were good!
But a “good” life made for a boring TV show, which was why Derek was convinced he was in one, because why the fuck else would he be having this conversation right now?
“Run it by me again,” he said, one arm crossed over his chest and the other rubbing two fingers against his eyes, then pinching the bridge of his nose, trying extremely hard to keep calm. “What exactly is it that happened?”
“Okay,” Stiles said breathlessly, eyes wide and visible skin pale. He flung one hand out for emphasis and Derek determinedly avoided watching the glob of black fly off and land somewhere to the right. After all, it wasn’t Stiles’ fault he was covered head to toe in black monster blood, of course not!
“Okay,” Stiles repeated, swallowing hard and beginning to ramble, like always. “I’m walking home, right? Like, just heading calmly back home like I do every day, when suddenly, these flying chicken ladies just-just attack! Like, they fucking bomb-dive me.” Stiles mimicked the downward action of the chicken ladies. “So I’m like, flailing everywhere, trying to get away from them, and I trip into this-this like, I don’t even know, like a hole in the ground. Only it’s not a hole!”
When Stiles jerked his hand forward to point at Derek, a large chunk of monster blood flung off him. Derek looked down at his shirt and crossed arms when it splattered across his front, then back up at Stiles, unimpressed.
Stiles didn’t even stop to look apologetic, he just barrelled on like nothing had happened. “So I fall in, right, and turns out that’s the opposite of what the chicken ladies want! Because this hole is actually the entrance into this gorgeous underground temple, full of marble statues with gold inlay and columns and just, it’s gorgeous! And the chicken ladies are coming for me, they’re just—” Stiles started flapping his arms like an idiot, more monster blood flying off him and probably going places Derek was never going to be able to reach. “They’re just coming at me. So I scramble around this temple like a maniac, and I end up finding this-this sword, right? It’s all rusted and broken but I’m like, I’m not picky, I just need some kind of weapon. So I pick it up, right? And-and I start dueling with the chicken ladies.”
Stiles took on a fencing stance, waving his front arm around to denote fighting with a sword. Derek didn’t understand why Stiles felt the need to action his words, Derek was pretty sure he knew what Stiles fighting looked like.
“Eventually, I get a good shot in, okay? Like, stab one of the chicken ladies right in the face, and it-it exploded in a shower of blood.” Stiles motioned himself emphatically. “So I’m covered in monster goo, can’t see anything, and there’re still two chicken ladies coming for me. So I’m just, I’m swinging, Derek!” Stiles began swinging one arm back and forth in the air. “I’m just swinging my sword around, hoping for the best, and I catch another chicken lady! But! I stab her, and she explodes in a shower of blood! So now I’m just covered,” Stiles motioned his entire front, “I’m just covered in monster blood. And I’m slipping around in it, and I can’t see anything, and there’s still one chicken lady, Derek!” Stiles held up one finger insistently. “One chicken lady’s still flappin’ around like a deranged chicken!”
Derek really hoped this story was over soon, because if Stiles didn’t stop coating the walls of the loft with monster blood, Derek was going to coat the walls with annoying human blood.
“So we’re facing off, right? Me and chicken lady are circling each other.” Stiles mimed holding a sword in both hands and moving in a small circle. “We’re facing off and it comes at me! Just right for the face with its talons! So I duck, right? I duck and roll, and I stab upwards, and boom!” Stiles clapped his hands together before spreading his arms wide. “Third chicken lady down. More blood, but by then I’m thinkin’, you know, I’m thinkin’ it’s no big deal, because the chicken ladies are all dead, so I’m like, I’m feeling good. Feeling good, Derek. So I drop the sword, it’s broken and gross anyway, and I turn around and there’s this woman.”
Derek’s eyebrows rose at Stiles’ action to that comment. He was mimicking the shape of the woman’s body with both hands, and seemed to realize it at the look he got, dropping them back to his sides.
“She’s just hangin’ out in this weird ass temple alone in the middle of the woods, so obviously, I’m like-I’m like, ‘Ma’am, I know what this looks like, but I’m a good guy.’ And she goes, ‘You’ve protected the artifact from the minions of Hades’ or some shit, and I’m like,” Stiles mimed his brain exploding. “And like, she starts going off on how she’s Hera, Queen of the Gods, and how I just defended her temple and protected the artifact. So then, she uh, she tells me that my bravery and devotion to her has made her decide to become my patron God and she’s sending me on a quest.” Stiles flailed one arm. “A quest, Derek! I am not Hercules! I can’t go on a quest!” He insisted, both arms flailing.
“Okay, first of all,” Derek grabbed at one of Stiles’s flailing hands and glared, “stop coating our loft with monster blood. Second, why were you walking through the woods, alone, at ten o’clock at night?”
“Did you not hear me?! I got a quest from a real life fucking Goddess, Derek! I don’t do quests, they’re bad for my health!”
“Your life in general is bad for your health.”
“Exactly! Why add more to my plate?! That’s just a heart attack waiting to happen!”
“Well,” Derek frowned, thinking for a moment. “What happens if you don’t do this quest. I mean, can you just ignore it?”
“She implied I’d get struck down by lightning and live in eternal agony in the Fields of Punishment.”
“Oh.” Well, there went that. Derek didn’t have time for this, he had work in the morning, but his stupid boyfriend had gone and gained the favour of a fucking Goddess and now Derek was positive he was going to end up tagging along with Stiles on this magical quest.
He didn’t have the patience for this. But he loved Stiles, so he was definitely going to end up joining him on this stupid quest.
Dammit.
“Okay, well, what’s the quest entail?” Derek crossed his arms, scowling when the monster blood squished uncomfortably between his arms, but he resolutely ignored that in favour of staring down Stiles.
“I have to bring the artifact back to Hera’s sacred temple.”
“And where’s that?”
Stiles winced. “Uh, Greece?”
Derek’s life was totally a TV show.
Definitely.
Derek hated flying with every fibre of his being. He’d hated the flight to New York, he’d hated the flight back because Laura had taken the car, and he hated the flight he was on right now. The only consolation he had was that they were currently landing, but that didn’t stop him from gripping the arm rest tightly enough to break it.
He could only hope nobody noticed until after they got off the plane. If they ever made it off the plane.
“You’re making me nervous,” Stiles hissed, fingers tapping incessantly against his knees while the plane descended. “Stop freaking out.”
“I wouldn’t be freaking out if I weren’t on a plane,” Derek hissed. “And I wouldn’t be on a plane if you hadn’t become some Goddess’ gopher.”
“Oh my God,” Stiles threw his hands in the air. “How many times do I have to apologize for that? I didn’t mean to fall into the temple, Derek! Why even was there a temple in Beacon Hills? Who knows?! Not me!”
Derek just grit his teeth until the plane landed, and they were the first to get off since he’d definitely broken the arm rest and they wanted to be somewhere far, far away before shit hit the fan.
It was hot and muggy out when they exited the airport, both only having brought enough clothes to fit in a carry-on so they could find this magical temple and then go home. Derek had been forced to use a lot more of his funds than he’d have liked paying for both their tickets, not to mention his boss was pissed about the vacation time he’d asked to book off.
It wasn’t his fault his stupid boyfriend had given his services to an ancient Goddess! Derek was only one guy, okay? He was doing the best he could.
“So, quest-master,” Derek said dryly. “Where to?”
Stiles pulled out a small notebook he’d been keeping his notes in. Hera had apparently told him many things, and he’d written down as much as possible after de-bloodifying himself so he wouldn’t forget them.
“We have to find some dude named Charon.”
Derek stared at him. “Charon,” he repeated.
“S’what my notes say.”
“The ferryman of the Underworld?”
Stiles turned to blink at him, then looked back at his notebook, scratching at his cheek absently. “No, that can’t be right, I distinctly remember the Underworld not being part of the plan,” he muttered to himself.
Derek sighed and looked skyward for patience he wasn’t sure he had. “Did you maybe mean to write Chiron? Instructor of great Greek heroes?”
“Yes!” Stiles pointed his finger at Derek and grinned. “Chiron, like I said.”
Derek’s face must’ve looked as unimpressed as he felt, because Stiles cleared his throat and tucked his notebook away, then began walking in a random direction. Derek stuck close behind him. With the idiot’s luck, he was liable to offend someone and get shot.
Or worse: become hero to another God. Derek could only handle the one right now.
They wandered around Athens for quite a while, Derek having to constantly yank Stiles back by the shirt when he got distracted by something and almost walked into traffic. Derek had no idea where they were supposed to be going to meet Chiron, and based on Stiles’ aimless wanderings, he didn’t know, either.
Derek ended up buying a map, but all that did was have Stiles leaning over him babbling excitedly about what he wanted to visit. While Derek would’ve loved for this to be a vacation, Stiles had a fucking deadline, courtesy of her Royal Goddessness, and they didn’t have time to just explore the area.
Which was a shame, really, because it was a nice area.
They headed for the Parthenon, mostly because they didn’t know where else to go, and while walking up to the Acropolis where it was located, he noticed something shimmering in the cliff face. Frowning, he grabbed Stiles’ arm, ignoring his protests, and walked over to the wall. He placed his hand against the shimmer, but nothing happened.
“Come on, Derek! It’s hot, and I’m tired, I just want to see the Parthenon!”
“And I want to go home with a living, breathing boyfriend,” he grumbled grumpily. “Touch this.”
He all but shoved Stiles at the wall, who reached out to stop from hitting it, but instead fell right through it with a shout, only his feet sticking out. Stiles scrambled to his feet on the opposite side of the wall, sneakers disappearing, and then stuck his head back out.
“Derek,” he whined.
“Go.” The Werewolf crossed his arms. “I’ll wait right here.”
“But what if Chiron eats me? Or attacks me? You’re meant to be helping.”
“I can’t go through the wall,” he insisted, annoyed, and shoved hard at Stiles’ face to push him back until Derek’s hand was flat against the rock face. “Just hurry up and go.”
He could hear Stiles bitching and moaning on the other side, like a whiny baby, but Derek just leaned back against the stone wall and crossed his arms, watching people walk up and down the Acropolis.
It really was a shame they weren’t here under better circumstances. Greece looked like a really interesting place to visit, and now that Derek knew the Gods of Olympus were real, it made it all the more interesting to him. Not that he was happy the Queen of the Gods had decided to latch onto his boyfriend and make him her hero when Stiles could barely tie his own shoes without hurting himself, but well.
He frowned when he heard screaming, and turned just in time to see Stiles fly through the wall. He hastily grabbed at the back of his shirt, almost ripping it in the process, to stop the moron from running right over the side of the damn Acropolis.
“Derek!” Stiles rounded on him, grabbing the front of his shirt. “Derek, it’s trying to eat me!”
Moving instantly in front of Stiles, Derek tried his best to keep the wolf at bay, given there were people around them, but thankfully no one was watching. He figured it had to do with some kind of magic, because when the individual trying to ‘eat him’ passed through the wall, nobody even spared him a glance.
Coming through the wall was weird enough, but the fact that he was a Centaur probably would’ve caught a fair few people’s attention.
“As I explained, young man, I am not going to harm you.”
“Derek, kill it! Kill it!” Stiles was practically crawling onto his back and Derek let out a slow, calming breath.
“You must be Chiron.”
“I am indeed.” The Centaur eyed Derek with distrust, and he figured he could probably sense he was a Werewolf. Those didn’t have the best reputation in Greek mythology.
“This is Stiles,” Derek motioned over his shoulder. “He was chosen by Hera or something. He’s meant to return her tiara or whatever to her statue in one of the temples here.”
Chiron looked startled, as if expecting Stiles, but not knowing what he’d been tasked with.
“That is a great honour, but a treacherous path. We shall have to begin your training immediately to bring you up to par with the enemies you will face.”
“Enemies? Training?” Stiles asked, voice a little calmer but still practically hanging off Derek’s back, arms wrapped around his neck. “What training? No one said anything about training! I’m just here to return the tiara and go home.”
Chiron blinked at him. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. You’ve been chosen, a God has become your patron. You are but on your first of many quests, and it is my duty to train you to become the hero you will eventually be known as.” Chiron frowned. “Though ‘Stiles’ doesn’t have quite the same ring to it as ‘Heracles’ or ‘Achilles’.”
“I’m sorry, did you say ‘first of many’?” Derek asked. “As in, he’s going to be doing this for a while?”
“Oh yes. Once a God has chosen to be your patron, you can expect many quests and trials in your life. Stiles is due for either heroic greatness, or a gruesome death. Shall we begin your training? You may bring your, uh, pet wolf?”
Derek slowly turned his head to glare at Stiles, who looked sheepish and laughed awkwardly.
Quests. In the plural. Meaning multiple. Meaning danger and hardship and near-death experiences the likes of which they had never seen, which was saying something, considering their lives.
TV show, Derek decided angrily, stepping through the wall when Chiron confirmed he could do so, Stiles still clinging to his back. I am definitely in a TV show.
The next time Stiles came home covered in monster blood, Derek was going to fucking bed.
END.