Work Text:
Stiles handed Harry a cup of coffee as he came into Harry's workspace.
Derek had turned some of the space on the second floor of the loft building into workrooms for the Pack. There already was a wood-working space and a craft space. Harry had decided that one of the empty rooms was good to use as a training room with Stiles.
Stiles sighed. "I need this today," he admitted, taking a drink of his own coffee.
Harry's gaze sharpened. "You haven't been sleeping well." That was a statement, not a question.
Stiles stared. "No. You, too?"
Harry nodded his head.
Stiles held up a hand. "Don't tell me. Big ass tree?"
Startled, Harry nodded. "Yes. Like... it wants me to go to it and... do something?"
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Fucking Nemetons," he said. "They can't be polite and just ask come and visit me, can they? No. It's all doom-and-gloom and mysterious events and bad dreams."
"Oh. You have one here," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "Of course, you have a Nemeton. Why didn't I think of that?"
"I think you Brits do most of your works in rocks, more than trees," Stiles grinned.
"True," Harry nodded.
"If it's bothering both of us, we might as well go," Stiles replied. He looked Harry up and down. "There's some serious tramping through the woods involved. I have a chance of clothes in Roscoe, let me get that."
"We could Apparate?" Harry started to suggest. "Maybe not? I get the feeling it doesn't want that?"
"Probably no Apparating, at least until you've been introduced," Stiles agreed. "Let me call Derek. He won't like it if we go without him."
"Then I'll call Hermione," Harry grinned.
"Meet here in an hour?" Stiles suggested.
"That would be good," Harry agreed.