Work Text:
The last thing that Stiles remembers isn’t this.
The smell of earth and rain and blood isn’t exactly new to him, but it certainly isn’t welcome. He wrinkles his nose, thinks he whimpers a little when the action makes his pounding headache even worse. He’s chilly, but not so much that he’s shivering, and his stomach rolls violently. He’s wet - well, damp, really, like he was soaked earlier and now his clothes are drying or something. Still, ew, and he tries to convey his disgust and just whimpers again.
Someone shushes him, and he manages to pry one eye open. The dark of night surrounds him, but worse.
“This isn’t your average, everyday darkness,” he slurs in kind of a croaked murmur, doesn’t even have the thin filter he usually does to keep himself from running his mouth.
It takes a minute, but the arms he’s in tighten briefly - oh, hey , someone’s holding him, and he doesn’t even have the energy to wiggle away. He thinks he might throw up if he does. “This is advanced darkness,” Derek replies, and red eyes flash in the dark.
It’s a relief, to know that Derek’s here too. Wherever they are. Creepy cave in the dark woods or something.
It’s just weird because the last thing Stiles remembers is punching a hunter in the face and making a run for the electric current to give Derek a chance to get them out. He just doesn’t remember anything after that.
“Wha’appened?” he asks, and he feels his fingers twitch as he lifts a hand and curls it around where Derek’s wrist is draped across his chest. He’s pretty much half in Derek’s lap, using one of his arms as a pillow, but with his upper-body braced across Derek’s legs. This can’t be comfortable for Derek, but he doesn’t have the ability to move.
There’s a pause, then a barely-perceptible sigh, almost lost in the sound of the rain. “You got us out. Cut the current, hunter got you in the back of the head, and you went down. I got us as far as I could, but they’re still looking for us and with the storm…” Derek trails off. “You were conscious. I thought we’d be okay if we just waited out the night here.”
Stiles frowns, lets his eyes drift closed again. “But?”
“But I just told you this same thing about twenty minutes ago. And another time about forty minutes before that.” Derek sounds… like Derek, to be honest, frustrated and worried, but there’s a distinct undercurrent of ‘scared’ there that’s obvious enough that even Stiles can pick up on it, as out of it as he is. He breathes out, like he’s trying to find strength that he doesn’t have. “I’ve got you, Stiles. Just stay awake. Can you do that for me?”
“‘M trying.” Stiles pats his wrist clumsily. His body feels heavy again, he’s pretty sure he’s gonna lose this whole ‘awake’ battle here in a minute. “‘S okay, babe. It’ll be okay.”
“Open your eyes. Stiles, open your eyes, you can’t go to sleep.” Oh, now that’s a level of scared that Stiles has never heard from Derek before, accompanied by a little shake like Derek’s trying to shake Stiles awake.
With effort, Stiles opens his eyes again. It’s so dark, he can’t see anything. “If I close my eyes, it doesn’t seem so dark,” he mumbles, and without his consent, he starts closing them again. “Don’t think I can, babe, ‘s okay. You’ll get me home. You got me.”
Derek shakes him again, but Stiles can’t get his eyes to open this time. There’s a howl in the distance, and then a crack of thunder, loud and right on top of them. “Scott,” Derek says. “That’s Scott, Stiles, you have to be awake when he gets here.”
Stiles can’t promise anything. “‘S okay,” he says again, and his own voice sounds far off, like he’s saying it to himself from another room. “You got me.”
He feels a little guilty about the panic in Derek’s voice as he loses his grip on consciousness again, but there’s not a lot he can do about it now. He’ll apologize when he wakes up, Stiles thinks, and drifts in the darkness.