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The woods are lovely, dark, and deep.
But Stiles has promises to keep
And miles to go before he sleeps
And miles to go before he sleeps
“Mother fucking Ice Giant,” Stiles muttered ripping off his shirt as Scott and Boyd followed him into the bathroom carrying bags of ice over their shoulders. “I mean, it couldn’t be a Tahitian Sprite?” He asked pulling down his pants and stepping out of them. “Or even a North American Land Troll?” he muttered rubbing his hand across the tattoos that lined his shoulders, arms, and reached across his shirt.
“I’m not sure about this,” Scott said as they poured the ice into the tub already filled with cold water.
“Dude, you’re not sure?” Stiles said rubbing his hands together. “I’m the one taking the ice bath.”
“Exactly,” Scott repeated. “There has to be another way, what if we can’t restart your heart?” He asks.
“Don’t worry, Scotty, I’m keeping my heart in a safe place. Just make sure you take care of his,” he said gesturing to the other room. “LYDIA, C’MON. LET’S DO THIS,” he shouted into the other room. Lydia walked around the corner pulling her hair into a ponytail as her heels clicked on the linoleum. She took her place in the chair sat at the foot of the tub.
“You,” Stile said looking her squarely in the eye. “My favorite nymph in the whole wide world. Make sure your boyfriend keeps whistling. If he lets Derek slip, I will end him,” he says with a smirk.
“You,” Lydia starts with the same leveling stare and a sparkle in her eye. “Just make sure you come back here. Get in and get out, Stilinski,” she finished.
“When have I ever -- oh holy fuck,” he said stepping into the tub shivering from the cold. “I just had to fall for a stupid selfless, were--,” he murmured to himself. The end of his muttering was cut off as he was fully submerged in the tub and held down by Scott and Boyd.
In an instant, Stiles was transported to a dark forest. There was snow on the ground, and the start of a trail. He could see a light in the distance and nothing, no one else. He had landed... or awoken (the exact metaphysics was escaping) him wearing all black, skinny jeans and his favorite, stolen, leather jacket. He reached down and nodded. His hunting knife was fastened where it always was. Lydia was growing better at transporting others through portals into adjoining worlds. He took a moment to survey the landscape, but nothing seemed as promising as the trail ahead of him. “Alright, door number one it is,” he muttered to himself heading toward the light.
He had made it less than twenty paces before the wind began to pick up, he could hear it whispering his name slightly, calling out to him the darkness. Stiles. He whipped his head back initially, then tried to shake it off as he trudged forward. Stiles. It continued to call, and he continued to ignore, dragging himself deeper into the woods. Stiles. He finally snapped, turning to face the wind. “OKAY,” he called out furiously. His eyes fell on to another figure in the darkness, this one standing not quite as tall, but twice as broad as him. For a moment, Stiles’s breath caught in his throat as he shook his head. “Really?” He asked with an exaggerated eye roll as the figure stepped closer, the moonlight illuminating the stubbled jaw and twinkling in the multi-colored eyes.
“Stiles,” the figure said.
“This isn’t even original,” Stiles said, turning to continue walking.
“What isn’t -- wha-- where are we Stiles?” Derek asked. Stiles paused for a moment looking at him.
“I’m not playing along with your game, and if you’re the one I came for, I will slice your mother fucking throat,” Stiles said sharply as he continued to stalk forward.
“Stiles,” Derek said, the anguish and fear and confusion in his voice causing Stiles to stop dead. He looked forward, eyes appraising, head tilted ever so slightly. Then he looked toward the light as if considering his options, as if the Derek in front of him presented another “door” worth traveling through. He walked up to the man and placed a hand gingerly on his shoulder, pulsing energy through the connection and causing Derek to shiver.
“Baby,” Stiles said sweetly, his eyes locked on Derek’s, but the touch didn’t seem to be having the anticipated effect. Derek stood rigid against Stiles’s hold. “Yeah,” Stiles said more to himself than the Derek in front of him as he quickly pulled his hand to grasp the figure at the throat using the full weight of his body to shove it against the tree behind him and crash his lips down on the other man. He took a deep breath, beginning to pull the life energy out of the figure but no sooner had the wisps started to emerge, than the entire body had disappeared. “Fuck,” Stiles breathed out, pulling his jacket closer to him and coughing. He could feel fluid building in his lungs as he hacked and shook it off.
He reached the light after what felt like another hour, his pale skin growing ghostly as he fought through the snow.
"I thought you would've died by now young one," a figure said off in the darkness.
"Enough with the ambiance and tricks," Stiles wheezed standing straight and reaching for his dagger.
"This is no trick, I'm impressed with you child," the creature said moving towards him. No longer obscured in shadow, Stiles could see the Ice Giant's true form. The beast, because there was little even humanoid about him in this form, stood a head taller than Stiles, a frozen ogre, but with grace of an elitist snob. "The winds speak of your power. The chosen one, the champion, the fa--."
"Just gonna stop you there big guy. No, I will not join you. Now, you took something that doesn't belong to you, and I want it back," Stiles said standing strong even as water dripped out of his mouth. The Ice Giant let out a roar that shook every tree, the sound of an avalanche crashing down a mountain.
“I have about five minutes, so we can do this the easy way,” Stiles started again, coughing up more fluid. The ice giant laughed, his fingers elongating into icicles. He flicked his hands and the icicles flew towards Stiles like daggers. Stiles ducked, and rolled out of their way. Coming up to squat in an attack position. “Yeah, I was afraid you were going to say that.” He quipped, taking off towards the ice giant at a run.
Stiles launched at the ogre all fierce determination and quick offence but the creature was stronger, tossing Stiles aside. Stiles pulled the dagger from his side, hurling it at the creature and making contact with it's shoulder. The Ice Giant howled in pain before attacking Stiles. They fought back and forth the Ice Giant using its strength, and Stiles his cunning, until Stiles found himself sinking into the snow, pinned beneath the ogre.
"Wanna see a real trick?" Stiles gasped as he reached out for the tree trunk nearest to him. It pulsed red with the pleasure Stiles was feeding it and the branches reached out to wrap around the Ice Giant's waist. The ogre struggled but was no match for the tree and Stiles pulled himself up, stumbling over to caress a nearby tree which reached out it's branches holding the ogre down on its knees before Stiles. Stiles looked down with a sad smirk, taking a deep breath before clasping the creature's face.
He sucked energy out of the Ice Giant, his mouth hovering just over the ogres as the blue wisps escaped. He closed his eyes momentarily letting the energy settle as he took every last bit leaving the Ice Giant lifeless, a frozen statue among the branches. He stumbled away from the creature and into the clearing letting his head turned upward.
“Alright, Lyds,” he whispered trailing a thumb over the ink on his forearm. It blazed red under his touch, but nothing happened. “Mother fucker,” he muttered under his breath rubbing his hands together. He was growing colder and colder by the second. He coughed again, water wheezing out of his lungs. He tried again, holding his hand over the tattoo, pouring more energy into the connection. He shivered from the cold and the exertion, falling to his knees, the strain on his lungs making him dizzy and unsteady. He began to black out, and was immediately pulled upwards, the blinding light and white tile bringing him back to himself. He could hear buzzing around him.
“Stiles, Stiles,” Scott called. Lydia was on her knees, up to her arms in the water, eyes rolling backwards when Stiles made it above the water gasping for breath. He reached and pulled her arms out, and splashed her, smiling through watery eyes.
“Shit Lydia, it’s not a hard code, you know one tug is ‘get me the hell out of here’,” he said with a smirk, stepping out of the tub. His lungs still contracting more than was strictly comfortable as they got used to the oxygen and vowed they would never take the sweet sweet air for granted again.
“Yeah,” she said looking down at her arms as if they had betrayed her. She had confusion and frustration etched across her face. “I guess, I didn’t consider how much the extra weight would be. I’m so--.”
“Do not finish that sentence,” Stiles said walking over to her. “You did amazingly,” he added placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Thank you.” He moved quickly into the bedroom where Jackson was keeping Derek enthralled and sedated. Stiles placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, causing the Siren to stop his whistle.
“I’m uh, not sure,” Jackson started but Stiles waved him off. He kneeled down to where Derek was on the ground, eyes closed gently. For a second he wonders who was the one to do that. The last time he saw Derek, he was dragging the lifeless body up the stairs, his eyes open, pupils dilated and ringed with gold, the sign of the wolf, frozen in the same gaze as he had when standing to attack. Then he takes Derek’s face into his hands as they all look on and breathes out the energy. Derek’s chi, the red and purple and gold wisps exiting Stiles and making it back to Derek. They all wait a moment to see if it was enough, and Stiles takes his face again, climbing over the body to straddle Derek and move in closer, a near kiss, to breathe the life energy back into his mate. Derek awakes with a start, inhaling the chi as Stiles captures his mouth in a kiss. All of the energy moving from Stiles to Derek. Derek deepens the kiss, leaning up to his elbows shortly.
“You moron,” Stiles finally says when they break apart. “A Siren,” he starts leaning in to press a kiss to Derek’s mouth. “A Baitibat,” he adds with another kiss. “And a Were,” he adds pressing his mouth to Derek’s again. “...walk into a bar, is not a battle strategy. It’s the beginning of a really bad joke,” he finishes resting on his hind legs as he looks at the others gathered around the room. “The next time you three think about taking on the messengers of an approaching convoy of Ice Giants, just don’t. Seriously Boyd, I expected more from you.” Boyd shrugs, but the guilt is etched across his face.
“Sorry,” Derek offers leaning up further and gripping Stiles’s waist.
“No you’re not,” Stiles said with a roll of his eyes. “This time you got away with it, but there’s something bigger coming. Next time you won’t be so lucky,” he said with a sigh leaning to press his forehead against Derek’s as Derek slipped his hands down to Stiles's thighs and grounded himself in the closeness, the pressure. He dragged his hand lightly across Derek's face causing a cascade of pleasure to fall over the wolf. Stiles barely registered the cough in the background as Derek moaned beneath him.
"Alright, job well done," Stiles said quickly over his shoulder as he shifted his weight on Derek ever so slightly, causing Derek's breath to hitch. "Now scram."