telaryn: (Peter Hale & His Neck)
[personal profile] telaryn
Title: Any Port
Author: [ profile] telaryn
Word Count: 1115
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: No ownership implied, no profit obtained.
Summary: Stiles ends up alone and injured in the woods. The werewolf who finds him is not the one he wants.
Author's Note: Written for [ profile] hc_bingo's Round 6, for the prompt "relying on enemy/rival".

The pain is like nothing Stiles has ever felt. He's read his share of medical texts (don't ask), watched enough television; he gets that broken ribs are supposed to hurt, but not this choking agony threatening to drown him every time he draws breath.

He can't stay here, prey for every supernatural crazy that's decided to go looking for a late night snack. Bracing himself on his elbows, he inhales as deep as he can and with every ounce of strength he has in him calls for Scott

for="for" a="a" late="late" night="night" bracing="Bracing" himself="himself" against="against" the="The" he="he" inhales="inhales" as="as" deep="deep" as="as" he="he" with="with" every="every" ounce="ounce" of="of" energy="energy" he="he" can="can" and="and" then="then" goes="goes" limp="limp" against="against" the="The" damp="damp" leaves="leaves" and="and" sobbing="sobbing" for="for" other="Other" names="names" drift="drift" through="through" is="is" but="but" with="with" the="The" weird="weird" certainty="certainty" his="his" brain="brain" sometimes="sometimes" seizes="seizes" stiles="Stiles" dismisses="dismisses" them="them" as="as" having="having" too="too" many="many" more="More" syllables="syllables" equals="equals" more="More" resulting="resulting" in="in" more="More" and="and" he="he" really="really" want="want" to="to" grapple="grapple" with="with" more="More" pain="pain" right="right" help="help" he="he" struggling="struggling" to="to" find="find" a="a" position="position" that="that" feel="feel" like="like" being="being" stabbed="stabbed" over="over" and="and" over="over" after="After" a="a" seeming="seeming" he="he" hears="hears" a="a" fresh="fresh" noise="noise" amidst="amidst" all="all" the="The" usual="usual" sounds="sounds" of="of" the="The" forest="forest" feet="feet" shuffling="shuffling" through="through" the="The" tell="tell" me="me" he="he" knowing="knowing" that="that" if="if" it="it" is="is" his="his" best="best" the="The" alpha="Alpha" can="can" hear="hear" tell="tell" me="me" not="not" somebody="somebody" wanting="wanting" to="to" tear="tear" me="me" limb="limb" from="from" but="but" not="not" that="that" a="a" momentary="momentary" surge="surge" of="of" hope="hope" is="is" dashed="dashed" immediately="immediately" as="as" stiles="Stiles" recognizes="recognizes" the="The" the="The" person="person" he="he" would="would" want="want" to="to" see="see" less="less" is="is" currently="currently" catatonic="catatonic" in="in" eichen="Eichen" theo="Theo" steps="steps" through="through" the="The" looking="looking" down="down" him="him" with="with" a="a" perfectly="perfectly" appropriate="appropriate" level="level" of="of" concern="concern" in="in" his="his" handsome="handsome" the="The" heck="heck" happened="happened" to="to" he="he" frowns="frowns" a="a" moment="moment" following="following" me="me" were="were" sometimes="sometimes" stiles="Stiles" really="really" hates="hates" his="his" was="was" those="those" refuges="refuges" from="from" forbidden="Forbidden" he="he" trying="trying" to="to" slide="slide" past="past" the="The" question="question" of="of" why="why" he="he" was="was" out="out" in="in" the="The" woods="woods" in="in" the="The" first="first" because="because" of="of">course he was

Theo steps through the trees, looking down on him with a perfectly appropriate level of concern in his handsome face. "What the heck happened to you?" He frowns a moment later, his expression darkening with a studied confusion. "Were you following me?"

Sometimes Stiles really hates his life. He takes refuge in his injuries, trying to slide past the question of what he was doing out in the woods in the first place, because of course he was following Theo.


The handsome werewolf kneels down beside him. “Did they stick you with anything?” He turns Stiles’ head to one side; Stiles tries to resist, but even tensing the muscles in his arms brings more pain than he can stand.

“No.” He gropes for Theo’s arm, pulls the kid’s attention towards his face. “Look, can you…can you just get Scott or something? That big fuck with the Taser, kicked me right in the ribs. I think a couple are broken."

Stiles’ heart skips several beats when Theo digs in his jeans and pulls out a switchblade. "Try not to move. The last thing we need is you puncturing a lung or something.”

“Just go get somebody,” Stiles says, trying to control his rising panic. He doesn’t want to be here, and he definitely doesn’t want to be here with his former ‘friend’ who he doesn’t trust as far as Theo can probably throw him.

He winces as Theo cuts into his shirt, ripping it up the side. “Damn,” he hears the other boy hiss. Pushing to his feet, Theo closes the blade and trades it for a phone. “What’s Scott’s number?”

It’s the last thing Stiles wants to do, but he closes his eyes, rattling Scott’s number off. Theo’s fingers dance over the glowing keys as he fires off a text. “Before you say anything,” he says, settling back down on the ground next to Stiles, “I’m not leaving you alone out here. Not while those freaks are running around turning humans into supes – Scott would kick my ass.”

His grin is far from reassuring on its own, since Stiles can’t shake the certainty that Theo is running some kind of freaky long con on everybody. The warning about a punctured lung is far more effective at keeping him quiet and still. Stiles knows he worries his dad enough with his running around ‘playing’ at being a hero. He really does try his best not to add to the sleepless nights by getting himself so hurt their insurance company might consider him a worse risk than an actual law enforcement officer.

“Help will be here soon,” Theo says, and it’s not until he speaks that Stiles realizes he’s teetering on the edge of shock.

He blows out a quiet breath and tells himself that he’s not really starting to shiver. “Okay, Theo? We’re not going to be able to wait for Scott to get here.” Forcing his voice level, Stiles explains to Theo what he suspects and what the other boy needs to do. Theo listens, nodding along, then his shirt is off in a flash, rolled up and put under Stiles’ feet on top of a hastily scooped together pile of leaves to elevate his feet.

For the first time since Derek left town, Stiles feels the flip side of his sexuality surge; Theo has the same impressively sculpted body as the other werewolves he knows, his skin pale gold and perfect. “I can do the shared body heat thing,” he offers, looking adorably embarrassed and making everything oh so much more difficult. “Other than that I don’t know how to keep you warm.”

Stiles is pretty sure he’d rather end up in the hospital than have Scott or one of the others find him in Theo’s embrace. “Put your hand on the back of my neck. If it gets worse, we can rethink things.” His heart rate spikes a beat as a soft chime splits the night.

Theo pulls out his phone again. “They’re coming.” He shifts position, then his fingers are sliding lightly across Stiles’ skin, cupping the back of his neck. Stiles shivers again once – a reaction he’s pretty sure has nothing to do with his injuries – then exhales slowly, whimpering as warmth sinks into his skin. “Better?” Theo asks.

“Yeah,” Stiles admits, closing his eyes and letting go for a second. “Thanks.”

Silence falls between them long enough for Stiles to begin to drift. He catches himself on the verge of unconsciousness – the gasp as he forces himself back awake sets up a flare in his side. Theo’s concerned expression is the first thing he sees as his eyes fly open again. “Don’t let me fall asleep,” Stiles gasps.

“I thought that was for concussions?” the werewolf asks.

Stiles racks his brain for confirmation, but focusing on anything is getting increasingly difficult. “I can’t take that chance.” He thinks about his father, draws strength from his determination not to cause his father any more worry than necessary. “Talk to me. Anything – just don’t let me fall asleep.”

Theo appears to consider the request, then says, “What can I do to get you to trust me?”

Scott can’t get here fast enough.
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September 2015

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