Failure to Appear
Title Failure To Appear
Summary All human AU set in the future. Derek is a bounty hunter & Stiles failed to appear on his court date. Derek accepts the job of tracking down Stiles; despite their history together.
Warnings None
Rating Mature
Chapters 5/?
Notes No beta, so mistakes are mine as per usual.
PS AO3
Chapters 1| 2| 3| 4|
-
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Stiles asked, eyes darting all around the canoe taking in the vast waters they were currently in. He could see in the far distance the line of receding trees but not much more than that.
“Shut up Stiles” Derek grumbled paddling farther and farther away from the promise of land and trees and solid ground.
Stiles gulped, hands tightly gripped on either side of the canoe as if that was going to steady the already rocking boat. He had long given up on helping Derek steer the canoe in the right direction and Derek hadn’t asked for Stiles help. He tried and failed to keep his eyes from peering over the edge of the canoe into the water - wrong decision. He closed his eyes and thought of England; or whatever it was you were supposed to think of to keep calm. He reminded himself that this was for work; he was getting paid to do this. And if this story panned out, it would be huge. It didn’t really help the panic rising up, as he felt his throat starting to close up - panic starting to take over.
“Stiles. Stiles” Derek repeated as he put the paddle across his lap so he could reach his hand up to Stiles’ shoulder to get his attention. “Just - breath.”
“Thanks” Stiles gasped out his hands fisted in his eyes. “That h-helps a person during a panic attack.”
Derek squeezed Stiles shoulder almost just willing the younger man to calm down because the last thing Derek needed was Stiles to start flailing around in the canoe - in the middle of a fucking lake, before they were both tipped over into the freezing cold water. He kept up the pressure on Stiles’ shoulder until he felt his breathing start to even out and Stiles removed his hands from his eyes.
“Okay. Okay, sorry” Stiles murmured not turning around to meet Derek’s eyes.
Derek removed his hand to take a look at the GPS and then put the paddle back into the water starting to steer the canoe. “Look, over there” Derek interrupted Stiles’ even breathing. “Land.”
“Oh thank fuck” Stiles whispered holding his backpack up close to his chest. “You know, life jackets might have been a smart purchase.”
“You can swim” Derek pointed out.
“Not during a fucking panic attack.”
Derek rolled his eyes and continued paddling closing the distance to the main land. He was repeatedly wondering why the hell he agreed to this - when he remembered the promise of money, both from Stiles and his boss for bringing Stiles in. He was seriously starting to consider calling this whole thing off, this was turning into more work than it was worth.
“Out. Pull the canoe up on the shore” Derek ordered.
Stiles considered complaining, telling Derek to do it, but he knew better than to push his luck - not that that stopped him anyway.
“You’re not going to make me get out and then leave me here, stranded are you?” Stiles asked tentatively turning around to eye Derek. At this point Stiles really wouldn’t put it past Derek, and the last thing he needed was to be stuck in the middle of God knows where - on his own.
“I’m thinking about it now” said Derek blowing out a puff of air. “No you dumbass. I get paid to bring you in” Derek pointed out.
Stiles rambled something about oh yeah, and money money money before he got out of the canoe and attempted to pull it up on shore. Only Derek was still in the canoe which meant it weight a tonne and he ended up falling flat on his ass on the hard pebbles as he was squatted attempting to pull the boat. He groaned rolling on his side so he didn’t squish all his belongings in his backpack shutting his eyes telling Derek to go on without him. Ever the dramatic Stiles Stilinski was.
“Where now?” Derek asked pulling the canoe up without much effort to stash it under a group of trees and bushes.
“Good question Hale” Stiles answered spinning in a circle trying to catch his bearings.
“Do I have to do everything?” Derek grumbled looking at the GPS, setting off in a random direction through a group of trees closely wound together.
“Hey! Hey, where are you going? Wait for me!” Stiles called out running after Derek ducking in between the trees. That’s when Stiles saw a worn out and fading “No Trespassers” sign that used to be nailed to a tree but was now lopsided and hanging.
Stiles didn’t know whether to take that as a sign that they were getting closer to the Blood Moon Pack or just an old sign that Park Rangers had posted years ago. From Stiles research on Big Moose Lake, it’s been abandoned for years and hikers or campers weren’t to enter the area - not that it was going to stop Stiles. Because seriously? If you don’t want people entering an area it would probably be smart to have a better security system than a “No Trespassing” sign.
“What do you plan on doing when you find these people?” Derek questioned from where he was walking a few yards ahead of Stiles.
“Interview them” Stiles stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“A gang or cult or whatever these people are, they’re just going to talk to you?”
“I can be persuasive when I want to be.”
“Right” Derek snorted under his breath keeping up his brisk pace leaving Stiles behind.
After about 45 minutes of walking, Derek realised that he had to slow down his pace for Stiles to actually keep up. The last thing Derek wanted to do was wander around this stupid vast forest looking for a lost Stiles, and if Stiles got lost he knew he’d have to. Not because he cared, nope. Because he had to bring Stiles in to get paid, that’s all that mattered.
“Could you walk any slower?” Stiles exclaimed at the same time he tripped over a branch landing on his hands and knees in a pile of dirt and leaves.
“Evidently I need to if you can’t even stand on your feet” Derek sighed turning around to see Stiles struggling to stand up again, brushing his hands and knees to rid it of any traces of dirt.
“Whatever, let’s just go” Stiles grunted pushing past Derek to lead the way.
Derek mimicked Stiles only because he knew Stiles couldn’t see him now that he was ahead of Derek, and really Derek had had enough of this stupid trip or work trip whatever you wanted to call it. His mind kept wandering to the sex he could have been having with Simon; and also being in the comfort of his loft apartment or at a bar. Instead, he was traipsing through the forest looking for an imaginary group of people - all in the name of money. Though it’s better than love surely?
As they continued their journey farther into the forest, farther away from their canoe and their camp ground on a completely different island did Derek start to realise the little signs of life and activity. Some of the trees had marks on them, not from nature or from any animals but it looked like gouges made from a weapon, an arrow or spear maybe. He saw track marks on the hard dirt that looked like foot prints, and where grass was trampled from something too large to be any forest animal. Unless there were bears here and Derek hoped for Stiles’ sake there weren’t any bears - he’d freak out. Again, Derek told himself it’s not his job to worry about Stiles and his fears or whatever they were.
“We must be getting close” Derek mused - thinking that maybe Stiles wasn’t as much of a gullible idiot as he had initially thought. Maybe this tribe was real.
“Oh really? Have you seen anyone in the past how many hours we’ve been walking?” Stiles grumbled steadying himself as he walked. Not long after he tripped and embarrassed himself in front of Derek he found a branch that could be used as a walking stick which proved very helpful. He was able to steady himself more easily and it helped pull his lazy ass up any hills they encountered.
“Actually yes” said Derek “Stiles - wait, Stiles!” Derek yelled as he pounced the last little gap of distance between himself and Stiles trying to pull him back, but it was too late.
“What the -” Stiles screeched as he felt himself and Derek’s grasp on his backpack being hoisted into the air captured in a dark brown mesh net. Stiles was on his back, one leg dangling through the netting and Derek half on top of him half on the netting as the contraption swayed back and forth in the air. “Are you kidding me” cried Stiles hysterically.
“I told you to wait” Derek yelled trying to push himself off of Stiles, not that there was a lot of room to move in their new confines.
“How was I supposed to know there was a fucking trap” yelled Stiles. “Get us out, get us out!” he ordered.
“How do you expect me to do that?” growled Derek.
Not that Stiles was listening. He didn’t have that many fears, not really. But being stuck in small confines, that was definitely one of them, near the very top of the list. To be stuck in a small confine, in the fucking air, with your ex-husband well that topped the whole God damn list. It’s been years since he’s had a panic attack, probably when he was still a teenager - never the less he felt like his throat was closing in, stopping his breath. He shut his eyes trying to breath in and out bringing his hands up to his ears to block out any noise - it wasn’t happening. Twice in one day? Perfect.
“Stiles? Hey, Stiles” Derek tried grabbing hold of the front of Stiles’ shirt trying to get his attention. “Listen to me” he instructed giving Stiles a hard tug - until he opened his eyes.
Stiles peered out through one eye still trying to calm himself.
“Just… Breath” Derek tried again. “It’s not going to do you any good freaking out and swinging this net everywhere.”
“Gee - thanks. Again.” Stiles sniffled.
“Your second panic attack in the span of 12 hours - was this really such a good idea?” Derek questioned.
“Oh you know what, you’re right Derek. This wasn’t a good idea, what do you say we get out of here and go back to the city? Oh wait, we’re fucking trapped” Stiles snapped.
Derek ignored Stiles’ sarcastic remark - years of being together taught him that handy little trick before he spoke next. “Check your bag for a knife or something sharp.”
“I thought you had a knife.”
“I did.” Derek growled “It’s on the ground in my backpack when I tried to grab for you.”
“Oh” Stiles gulped trying to resituate himself so that he could pull his bag off of his back. It was a lot of awkward movements and swinging of the net, bumping into Derek when he finally got the bag. He opened it up digging through, only to find bags upon bags of food, some water and all his notes. No knife, nothing sharp.
“What kind of idiot doesn’t have a knife?” Derek sighed.
“At least I have provisions - of the food variety” Stiles tried holding up the food offering Derek a granola bar.
“Fuck sakes” Derek said grabbing the granola bar from Stiles, ripping it opening and taking a bite.
Once Derek had finished eating his granola he closed his eyes trying to devise a plan on how the hell they were going to get out of here - before whoever created this trap found them. If they had a knife, a pocket knife, hell a fucking staple he would have been sawing away at any part of the netting that he could. He didn’t care if they were going to have to plummet down to the ground, anything would beat swimming around in a tree like fucking Tarzan. No, not even like Tarzan because he wouldn’t get himself stuck in a tree - and Derek really thought he needed to stop thinking about Tarzan. If they were at least near any more branches they might have been able to swing, grab hold and work from there - but they were too far.
None the less Derek instructed Stiles to try and swing the net in tandem to see if it were at all possible to grab hold of one of the branches and try and escape that way. Or at the very least be able to break off a piece of the branch to try and saw their way free. After a few unsuccessful attempts Stiles started to complain saying his leg was cramping up and no wonder, considering it was still stuck in the netting. Derek knew trying to swing the net on his own wasn’t going to work so he reluctantly stopped, letting the net swing back and forth until it lost momentum and they were once again trapped in mid-air.
“Oh God my leg, my -” Stiles started before Derek cut him off telling him to “shh” and he was about to say something to that when he heard a twig snap and what sounded like shuffling of feet.
Both of the men spun their heads around trying to find the source of the noise - when they saw a group of four or five men emerge from behind a group of bushes; wearing wolf masks, a breechcloth, worn often by Native Americans, barely covering their junk or ass showcasing their thighs and no shirt, carrying spears.
“Oh my God!” Stiles whispered. “They’re real!&rdquo
“Shut up” Derek ordered staring down the men who now stood directly underneath them.
“So sorry to just show up uninvited” Stiles went on, ignoring Derek’s quiet growls. “But we come in peace - complete and utter peace. I vote green party! Not that you guys probably even vote, but I assure you, you’d approve” he babbled on.
Stiles couldn’t see the men’s eyes, as they were covered by the masks so he just watched them standing there staring up at him and Derek, not saying a word.
“No English?” Stiles questioned. “Spanish? I know a little Spanish and French but after that nothing. Derek what about you?”
“Shut. Up” Derek enunciated.
The group of men below still said nothing, circling the netting. One of them, the largest, raised his spear and started to poke around the netting at the two men trapped.
“Ow! Hey, watch the goods man” Stiles screeched trying to move out of the way of the spear currently attacking his ass, not that there was anywhere he could even move.
The large man below - probably the leader, let out a bark of laughter continuing the jabbing motion as the others joined in now poking both Stiles and Derek. They both let out groans trying to fidget around in the small enclosure to get away from the jabbing without much avail - until the men finally ceased. They stood there a few minutes longer grabbing hold of Derek’s backpack, just staring before they were leaving the same way they’d come - through the group of bushes.
“HEY!” Stiles yelled out to them. “AREN’T YOU AT LEAST GOING TO CUT US DOWN?!”
They tribesmen said nothing nor turned around - predictable.
“Oh God you don’t think they’re going to warm up the cauldron do you?” Stiles asked. “They’re going to make a Derek/Stiles stew al dente.”
“That’s for vegetables or pasta” Derek interrupted.
“What? Seriously that’s what you’re correcting me on!” Stiles screeched. “Are you not concerned that we could become dinner?”
“They’re not actual wolves Stiles” Derek sighed.
“That doesn’t mean they don’t have clinical lycanthropy! They may very well believe they’re wolves, which means we might be dinner! This is so not how I thought it would end.&rdquo
“Really? You never envisioned dying at the hands of a tribe made up of pretend wolves?” Derek replied sarcastically.
“No” Stiles deadpanned. “I thought I would be old, and just die in my sleep. No pain.”
Derek groaned closing his eyes and resting his head against the netting. He was so done with this conversation - now really was the time for them to get out of here before those men came back. He just hoped they hadn’t tracked their movements and found their canoe. Without any canoe they were basically trapped on this island with a bunch of archaic men.
Every time Stiles went to open his mouth to say something - anything, Derek didn’t care what it was, he gave him the death glare just daring him to speak. Stiles for once in his life thought it was smart to just keep his damn mouth closed - at least for now. Besides, he didn’t know if Derek was trying to devise a plan so he might as well. There was no way he was becoming a Stiles Stilinski stew, nope. Not happening.
It was midway during the night after both men ate some more granola bars that Stiles found buried underneath a change of clothes some beef jerky. He whooped pulling it out and handed it to Derek.
“You don’t like beef jerky” Derek commented but still taking the jerky - he was starving and granola bars were hardly masking his hunger and growling stomach.
“But you do” Stiles shrugged - or at least tried to in the netting. “I saw it at the counter when I was paying for everything, so I bought some.”
“Surprised you care” Derek muttered taking a large chunk out of the jerky.
“It’s not hard to remember what you liked” Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek even though he probably couldn’t see in the darkness.
“Right” Derek snorted.
“No need to get snarky” said Stiles.
“Whatever.” Derek retorted - because he was clearly in high school. “Because what I love is to come home to divorce papers on the table.”
“What? It’s - it’s not like it was a surprise!” Stiles exclaimed.
“Not a surprise” bellowed Derek. “I was under the impression we were going through a rough patch but going to work on it. Not run to a divorce lawyer.”
“Rough patch?” Stiles screeched “A rough patch is no sex for a month. This was about children; we were on complete opposite ends of the spectrum! I read in Cosmo what happens to couples who disagree about children.”
“Cosmo?” Derek questioned. “You read Cosmo?”
“It was Lydia’s” Stiles lied - not that Derek would know he was lying. “Besides, they have good articles in there and as a journalist I’m a fan of all sorts of writing styles. Anyway, that’s not the point!&rdquo
“You didn’t even talk to me Stiles” Derek replied level-headed. “You went behind my back and filed those papers.”
“So I filed them first?” Stiles ridiculed. “We both knew it was coming.”
“No we didn’t” Derek growled. “I never wanted a divorce, I never even considered it.”
“Oh” Stiles whispered into the cool night air. He was a little more than happy that it was so dark out. They’d never had a conversation about the pending divorce, it all sort of just happened and the ball kept rolling from there. Stiles had just planned to get the papers signed and move on, avoid the whole confrontation thing. Apparently being stuck in mesh netting suspended in the air hindered that avoidance tactic.
“So that’s what it was? You beating me to the punch” Derek ridiculed. “Hurting me before I could hurt you?”
“No. Yes. I guess so” Stiles replied so quietly Derek almost didn’t hear it.
“I was never going to hurt you Stiles” Derek sighed. “But you were right about beating me to the punch. You win; you hurt me before I could hurt you.”
And that was that, Derek didn’t have anything else to say and Stiles was too stunned to even come up with a response - sarcastic or otherwise. It was a few minutes later that Stiles heard the soft snores emanating from Derek. He was happy that he was alone (as alone as you could be trapped) and didn’t have Derek there to listen in as he felt tears starting to sting the back of his eyes. All along he thought Derek had been unhappy once Stiles had said he didn’t want kids; he was convinced that Derek was going to walk away. And Derek was right; Stiles just wanted to beat him to the punch and filed the papers first.
He thought he’d get a little satisfaction of being the one to walk away from Derek, to hurt him. All that time when they first met and Stiles was awkward and fumbling trying to get Derek’s attention when he was in high school. He always thought Derek was too good for him, too cool, too good looking. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Derek to come to his sense. But Derek never did, and their relationship just kept progressing.
Was Derek serious, was he not going to walk away? Stiles wondered if they should have tried harder, gone to counselling or something? Surely they weren’t the only couple in the world where one spouse wanted children and the other didn’t. It was too late now, anyway.
Stiles doesn’t know when exactly he fell asleep but he knew it was to the lull of Derek’s soft snoring. The snores that used to drive him crazy when they were married - but also the snores he hasn’t heard in over a year and came to miss.
Chapter 6|
Summary All human AU set in the future. Derek is a bounty hunter & Stiles failed to appear on his court date. Derek accepts the job of tracking down Stiles; despite their history together.
Warnings None
Rating Mature
Chapters 5/?
Notes No beta, so mistakes are mine as per usual.
PS AO3
Chapters 1| 2| 3| 4|
-
“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Stiles asked, eyes darting all around the canoe taking in the vast waters they were currently in. He could see in the far distance the line of receding trees but not much more than that.
“Shut up Stiles” Derek grumbled paddling farther and farther away from the promise of land and trees and solid ground.
Stiles gulped, hands tightly gripped on either side of the canoe as if that was going to steady the already rocking boat. He had long given up on helping Derek steer the canoe in the right direction and Derek hadn’t asked for Stiles help. He tried and failed to keep his eyes from peering over the edge of the canoe into the water - wrong decision. He closed his eyes and thought of England; or whatever it was you were supposed to think of to keep calm. He reminded himself that this was for work; he was getting paid to do this. And if this story panned out, it would be huge. It didn’t really help the panic rising up, as he felt his throat starting to close up - panic starting to take over.
“Stiles. Stiles” Derek repeated as he put the paddle across his lap so he could reach his hand up to Stiles’ shoulder to get his attention. “Just - breath.”
“Thanks” Stiles gasped out his hands fisted in his eyes. “That h-helps a person during a panic attack.”
Derek squeezed Stiles shoulder almost just willing the younger man to calm down because the last thing Derek needed was Stiles to start flailing around in the canoe - in the middle of a fucking lake, before they were both tipped over into the freezing cold water. He kept up the pressure on Stiles’ shoulder until he felt his breathing start to even out and Stiles removed his hands from his eyes.
“Okay. Okay, sorry” Stiles murmured not turning around to meet Derek’s eyes.
Derek removed his hand to take a look at the GPS and then put the paddle back into the water starting to steer the canoe. “Look, over there” Derek interrupted Stiles’ even breathing. “Land.”
“Oh thank fuck” Stiles whispered holding his backpack up close to his chest. “You know, life jackets might have been a smart purchase.”
“You can swim” Derek pointed out.
“Not during a fucking panic attack.”
Derek rolled his eyes and continued paddling closing the distance to the main land. He was repeatedly wondering why the hell he agreed to this - when he remembered the promise of money, both from Stiles and his boss for bringing Stiles in. He was seriously starting to consider calling this whole thing off, this was turning into more work than it was worth.
“Out. Pull the canoe up on the shore” Derek ordered.
Stiles considered complaining, telling Derek to do it, but he knew better than to push his luck - not that that stopped him anyway.
“You’re not going to make me get out and then leave me here, stranded are you?” Stiles asked tentatively turning around to eye Derek. At this point Stiles really wouldn’t put it past Derek, and the last thing he needed was to be stuck in the middle of God knows where - on his own.
“I’m thinking about it now” said Derek blowing out a puff of air. “No you dumbass. I get paid to bring you in” Derek pointed out.
Stiles rambled something about oh yeah, and money money money before he got out of the canoe and attempted to pull it up on shore. Only Derek was still in the canoe which meant it weight a tonne and he ended up falling flat on his ass on the hard pebbles as he was squatted attempting to pull the boat. He groaned rolling on his side so he didn’t squish all his belongings in his backpack shutting his eyes telling Derek to go on without him. Ever the dramatic Stiles Stilinski was.
“Where now?” Derek asked pulling the canoe up without much effort to stash it under a group of trees and bushes.
“Good question Hale” Stiles answered spinning in a circle trying to catch his bearings.
“Do I have to do everything?” Derek grumbled looking at the GPS, setting off in a random direction through a group of trees closely wound together.
“Hey! Hey, where are you going? Wait for me!” Stiles called out running after Derek ducking in between the trees. That’s when Stiles saw a worn out and fading “No Trespassers” sign that used to be nailed to a tree but was now lopsided and hanging.
Stiles didn’t know whether to take that as a sign that they were getting closer to the Blood Moon Pack or just an old sign that Park Rangers had posted years ago. From Stiles research on Big Moose Lake, it’s been abandoned for years and hikers or campers weren’t to enter the area - not that it was going to stop Stiles. Because seriously? If you don’t want people entering an area it would probably be smart to have a better security system than a “No Trespassing” sign.
“What do you plan on doing when you find these people?” Derek questioned from where he was walking a few yards ahead of Stiles.
“Interview them” Stiles stated like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“A gang or cult or whatever these people are, they’re just going to talk to you?”
“I can be persuasive when I want to be.”
“Right” Derek snorted under his breath keeping up his brisk pace leaving Stiles behind.
After about 45 minutes of walking, Derek realised that he had to slow down his pace for Stiles to actually keep up. The last thing Derek wanted to do was wander around this stupid vast forest looking for a lost Stiles, and if Stiles got lost he knew he’d have to. Not because he cared, nope. Because he had to bring Stiles in to get paid, that’s all that mattered.
“Could you walk any slower?” Stiles exclaimed at the same time he tripped over a branch landing on his hands and knees in a pile of dirt and leaves.
“Evidently I need to if you can’t even stand on your feet” Derek sighed turning around to see Stiles struggling to stand up again, brushing his hands and knees to rid it of any traces of dirt.
“Whatever, let’s just go” Stiles grunted pushing past Derek to lead the way.
Derek mimicked Stiles only because he knew Stiles couldn’t see him now that he was ahead of Derek, and really Derek had had enough of this stupid trip or work trip whatever you wanted to call it. His mind kept wandering to the sex he could have been having with Simon; and also being in the comfort of his loft apartment or at a bar. Instead, he was traipsing through the forest looking for an imaginary group of people - all in the name of money. Though it’s better than love surely?
As they continued their journey farther into the forest, farther away from their canoe and their camp ground on a completely different island did Derek start to realise the little signs of life and activity. Some of the trees had marks on them, not from nature or from any animals but it looked like gouges made from a weapon, an arrow or spear maybe. He saw track marks on the hard dirt that looked like foot prints, and where grass was trampled from something too large to be any forest animal. Unless there were bears here and Derek hoped for Stiles’ sake there weren’t any bears - he’d freak out. Again, Derek told himself it’s not his job to worry about Stiles and his fears or whatever they were.
“We must be getting close” Derek mused - thinking that maybe Stiles wasn’t as much of a gullible idiot as he had initially thought. Maybe this tribe was real.
“Oh really? Have you seen anyone in the past how many hours we’ve been walking?” Stiles grumbled steadying himself as he walked. Not long after he tripped and embarrassed himself in front of Derek he found a branch that could be used as a walking stick which proved very helpful. He was able to steady himself more easily and it helped pull his lazy ass up any hills they encountered.
“Actually yes” said Derek “Stiles - wait, Stiles!” Derek yelled as he pounced the last little gap of distance between himself and Stiles trying to pull him back, but it was too late.
“What the -” Stiles screeched as he felt himself and Derek’s grasp on his backpack being hoisted into the air captured in a dark brown mesh net. Stiles was on his back, one leg dangling through the netting and Derek half on top of him half on the netting as the contraption swayed back and forth in the air. “Are you kidding me” cried Stiles hysterically.
“I told you to wait” Derek yelled trying to push himself off of Stiles, not that there was a lot of room to move in their new confines.
“How was I supposed to know there was a fucking trap” yelled Stiles. “Get us out, get us out!” he ordered.
“How do you expect me to do that?” growled Derek.
Not that Stiles was listening. He didn’t have that many fears, not really. But being stuck in small confines, that was definitely one of them, near the very top of the list. To be stuck in a small confine, in the fucking air, with your ex-husband well that topped the whole God damn list. It’s been years since he’s had a panic attack, probably when he was still a teenager - never the less he felt like his throat was closing in, stopping his breath. He shut his eyes trying to breath in and out bringing his hands up to his ears to block out any noise - it wasn’t happening. Twice in one day? Perfect.
“Stiles? Hey, Stiles” Derek tried grabbing hold of the front of Stiles’ shirt trying to get his attention. “Listen to me” he instructed giving Stiles a hard tug - until he opened his eyes.
Stiles peered out through one eye still trying to calm himself.
“Just… Breath” Derek tried again. “It’s not going to do you any good freaking out and swinging this net everywhere.”
“Gee - thanks. Again.” Stiles sniffled.
“Your second panic attack in the span of 12 hours - was this really such a good idea?” Derek questioned.
“Oh you know what, you’re right Derek. This wasn’t a good idea, what do you say we get out of here and go back to the city? Oh wait, we’re fucking trapped” Stiles snapped.
Derek ignored Stiles’ sarcastic remark - years of being together taught him that handy little trick before he spoke next. “Check your bag for a knife or something sharp.”
“I thought you had a knife.”
“I did.” Derek growled “It’s on the ground in my backpack when I tried to grab for you.”
“Oh” Stiles gulped trying to resituate himself so that he could pull his bag off of his back. It was a lot of awkward movements and swinging of the net, bumping into Derek when he finally got the bag. He opened it up digging through, only to find bags upon bags of food, some water and all his notes. No knife, nothing sharp.
“What kind of idiot doesn’t have a knife?” Derek sighed.
“At least I have provisions - of the food variety” Stiles tried holding up the food offering Derek a granola bar.
“Fuck sakes” Derek said grabbing the granola bar from Stiles, ripping it opening and taking a bite.
Once Derek had finished eating his granola he closed his eyes trying to devise a plan on how the hell they were going to get out of here - before whoever created this trap found them. If they had a knife, a pocket knife, hell a fucking staple he would have been sawing away at any part of the netting that he could. He didn’t care if they were going to have to plummet down to the ground, anything would beat swimming around in a tree like fucking Tarzan. No, not even like Tarzan because he wouldn’t get himself stuck in a tree - and Derek really thought he needed to stop thinking about Tarzan. If they were at least near any more branches they might have been able to swing, grab hold and work from there - but they were too far.
None the less Derek instructed Stiles to try and swing the net in tandem to see if it were at all possible to grab hold of one of the branches and try and escape that way. Or at the very least be able to break off a piece of the branch to try and saw their way free. After a few unsuccessful attempts Stiles started to complain saying his leg was cramping up and no wonder, considering it was still stuck in the netting. Derek knew trying to swing the net on his own wasn’t going to work so he reluctantly stopped, letting the net swing back and forth until it lost momentum and they were once again trapped in mid-air.
“Oh God my leg, my -” Stiles started before Derek cut him off telling him to “shh” and he was about to say something to that when he heard a twig snap and what sounded like shuffling of feet.
Both of the men spun their heads around trying to find the source of the noise - when they saw a group of four or five men emerge from behind a group of bushes; wearing wolf masks, a breechcloth, worn often by Native Americans, barely covering their junk or ass showcasing their thighs and no shirt, carrying spears.
“Oh my God!” Stiles whispered. “They’re real!&rdquo
“Shut up” Derek ordered staring down the men who now stood directly underneath them.
“So sorry to just show up uninvited” Stiles went on, ignoring Derek’s quiet growls. “But we come in peace - complete and utter peace. I vote green party! Not that you guys probably even vote, but I assure you, you’d approve” he babbled on.
Stiles couldn’t see the men’s eyes, as they were covered by the masks so he just watched them standing there staring up at him and Derek, not saying a word.
“No English?” Stiles questioned. “Spanish? I know a little Spanish and French but after that nothing. Derek what about you?”
“Shut. Up” Derek enunciated.
The group of men below still said nothing, circling the netting. One of them, the largest, raised his spear and started to poke around the netting at the two men trapped.
“Ow! Hey, watch the goods man” Stiles screeched trying to move out of the way of the spear currently attacking his ass, not that there was anywhere he could even move.
The large man below - probably the leader, let out a bark of laughter continuing the jabbing motion as the others joined in now poking both Stiles and Derek. They both let out groans trying to fidget around in the small enclosure to get away from the jabbing without much avail - until the men finally ceased. They stood there a few minutes longer grabbing hold of Derek’s backpack, just staring before they were leaving the same way they’d come - through the group of bushes.
“HEY!” Stiles yelled out to them. “AREN’T YOU AT LEAST GOING TO CUT US DOWN?!”
They tribesmen said nothing nor turned around - predictable.
“Oh God you don’t think they’re going to warm up the cauldron do you?” Stiles asked. “They’re going to make a Derek/Stiles stew al dente.”
“That’s for vegetables or pasta” Derek interrupted.
“What? Seriously that’s what you’re correcting me on!” Stiles screeched. “Are you not concerned that we could become dinner?”
“They’re not actual wolves Stiles” Derek sighed.
“That doesn’t mean they don’t have clinical lycanthropy! They may very well believe they’re wolves, which means we might be dinner! This is so not how I thought it would end.&rdquo
“Really? You never envisioned dying at the hands of a tribe made up of pretend wolves?” Derek replied sarcastically.
“No” Stiles deadpanned. “I thought I would be old, and just die in my sleep. No pain.”
Derek groaned closing his eyes and resting his head against the netting. He was so done with this conversation - now really was the time for them to get out of here before those men came back. He just hoped they hadn’t tracked their movements and found their canoe. Without any canoe they were basically trapped on this island with a bunch of archaic men.
Every time Stiles went to open his mouth to say something - anything, Derek didn’t care what it was, he gave him the death glare just daring him to speak. Stiles for once in his life thought it was smart to just keep his damn mouth closed - at least for now. Besides, he didn’t know if Derek was trying to devise a plan so he might as well. There was no way he was becoming a Stiles Stilinski stew, nope. Not happening.
It was midway during the night after both men ate some more granola bars that Stiles found buried underneath a change of clothes some beef jerky. He whooped pulling it out and handed it to Derek.
“You don’t like beef jerky” Derek commented but still taking the jerky - he was starving and granola bars were hardly masking his hunger and growling stomach.
“But you do” Stiles shrugged - or at least tried to in the netting. “I saw it at the counter when I was paying for everything, so I bought some.”
“Surprised you care” Derek muttered taking a large chunk out of the jerky.
“It’s not hard to remember what you liked” Stiles narrowed his eyes at Derek even though he probably couldn’t see in the darkness.
“Right” Derek snorted.
“No need to get snarky” said Stiles.
“Whatever.” Derek retorted - because he was clearly in high school. “Because what I love is to come home to divorce papers on the table.”
“What? It’s - it’s not like it was a surprise!” Stiles exclaimed.
“Not a surprise” bellowed Derek. “I was under the impression we were going through a rough patch but going to work on it. Not run to a divorce lawyer.”
“Rough patch?” Stiles screeched “A rough patch is no sex for a month. This was about children; we were on complete opposite ends of the spectrum! I read in Cosmo what happens to couples who disagree about children.”
“Cosmo?” Derek questioned. “You read Cosmo?”
“It was Lydia’s” Stiles lied - not that Derek would know he was lying. “Besides, they have good articles in there and as a journalist I’m a fan of all sorts of writing styles. Anyway, that’s not the point!&rdquo
“You didn’t even talk to me Stiles” Derek replied level-headed. “You went behind my back and filed those papers.”
“So I filed them first?” Stiles ridiculed. “We both knew it was coming.”
“No we didn’t” Derek growled. “I never wanted a divorce, I never even considered it.”
“Oh” Stiles whispered into the cool night air. He was a little more than happy that it was so dark out. They’d never had a conversation about the pending divorce, it all sort of just happened and the ball kept rolling from there. Stiles had just planned to get the papers signed and move on, avoid the whole confrontation thing. Apparently being stuck in mesh netting suspended in the air hindered that avoidance tactic.
“So that’s what it was? You beating me to the punch” Derek ridiculed. “Hurting me before I could hurt you?”
“No. Yes. I guess so” Stiles replied so quietly Derek almost didn’t hear it.
“I was never going to hurt you Stiles” Derek sighed. “But you were right about beating me to the punch. You win; you hurt me before I could hurt you.”
And that was that, Derek didn’t have anything else to say and Stiles was too stunned to even come up with a response - sarcastic or otherwise. It was a few minutes later that Stiles heard the soft snores emanating from Derek. He was happy that he was alone (as alone as you could be trapped) and didn’t have Derek there to listen in as he felt tears starting to sting the back of his eyes. All along he thought Derek had been unhappy once Stiles had said he didn’t want kids; he was convinced that Derek was going to walk away. And Derek was right; Stiles just wanted to beat him to the punch and filed the papers first.
He thought he’d get a little satisfaction of being the one to walk away from Derek, to hurt him. All that time when they first met and Stiles was awkward and fumbling trying to get Derek’s attention when he was in high school. He always thought Derek was too good for him, too cool, too good looking. He was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Derek to come to his sense. But Derek never did, and their relationship just kept progressing.
Was Derek serious, was he not going to walk away? Stiles wondered if they should have tried harder, gone to counselling or something? Surely they weren’t the only couple in the world where one spouse wanted children and the other didn’t. It was too late now, anyway.
Stiles doesn’t know when exactly he fell asleep but he knew it was to the lull of Derek’s soft snoring. The snores that used to drive him crazy when they were married - but also the snores he hasn’t heard in over a year and came to miss.
Chapter 6|