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Just because Stiles like to take showers on a daily basis doesn’t mean he actually liked to swim, or be in any kind of body of water, pool or not. No, he avoided it at all costs.
So then… why was he currently drowning in a lake? Stiles was definitely going to reevaluate his life choices if he survived this.
Oh, it was that water sprite that Derek’s pack had been chasing around the city, wasn’t it? He did remember Lydia mentioning something about it having the ability to hypnotize its victim. Eugh, he hated being called a victim. He knew he should have paid more attention to the banshee instead of trying to climb Derek like a tree. Stiles couldn’t help it.
Now he was hopelessly drowning. He couldn’t his arms down far enough to take a swipe at the damn thing that had a vice grip on his ankle.
Where were those damn werewolves? Stiles was starting to feel light headed now and his lungs ached.
Stiles continued to swing about, the water slowing his movements tremendously.
Wait, he paused for a moment. Okay seriously? He has hung around Scott for longer than he’d admit.
Stiles let out a stream of bubbles as he lifted his free leg up as much as he could and slamming it down with every ounce of energy he could muster.
He heard a muffled sound and felt the hand release his ankle.
Oh, sweet baby jesus!
With a strong upstroke, the werecat propelled himself to the surface. It almost felt like he wasn’t going to make it.
He broke surface, gasping and sputtering for air. Stiles was so close to shifting it wasn’t funny.
“Stiles!”
Nope. Nope!
Stiles swung around, eyes blue and angry.
“What the ever loving fuck!? Did it seriously take ya’ll that long to track us?”
“It’s kind of hard to track you when this whole damn city reeks of you,” Erica snapped.
Good, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Just, just get me out of here. It seduced me, Derek!” Stiles started to make his way to shore. He ached.
“Stiles, it hypnotized you. There’s a difference,” Lydia pointed out.
Jeez, what was with all the women yelling at him? Okay, maybe they weren’t yelling.
“It might as well seduced me and taken me out to dinner in the time it took you guys to find us,” he gripped, getting closer.
Then he felt something brush against his leg again. He paled.
“Oh hell n—” Stiles was yanked under again, water muffling the sound of the others yelling his name.
No, he was not going to die now. Stiles twisted his body, shifting so he can dig thick claws and fangs into slimy skin that made him want to gag.
There was a sharp, piercing scream and he blacked out.
When he came to, he was hacking up so much water.
“Stiles! …Stiles?”
Why did they sound so unsure? He managed to lift himself up some and blink his eyes open.
He saw his paws. Oh, he was still shifted.
Stiles looked up to the werewolves. This was the first time they’ve seen him in this form. Well good for them, he still felt like shit.
He hefted himself all the way up and moments later realized that he had some help with that. The leopard turned his head and saw hands in his fur, his sloppy, wet fur.
Letting out a questioning rumble, he moved forward out of Derek’s hands, only to stumble off balance.
Well that was disconcerting. He guessed this is what he gets for almost being drowned not once, but twice.
It was almost like his tail had been yanked off.
Stiles swung his head around—and almost falling over in the process—only to see his long tail twitching wildly.
He took a few more wobbly steps before he had to sit down. Even sitting it felt like his was going to tip over.
“Stiles?” Derek grunted, getting his attention again. He let out another questioning sound before he saw the towel the werewolf was holding.
Yes, that would be nice. Stiles twitched his tail and bobbed his head, hoping his answer was understood.
It was.