Being lost is okay

Deal (16)

Stiles stomped, going deeper and deeper through the woods. He needed to be as far away from Pan as he possibly could be.

"Oh! I'm Peter Pan," Stiles muttered, mocking a British accent. "I own everything and everyone. This is my island. I throw knives at people for fun." Putting his hands on his hip, the teen pranced around doing a jig. "Mischief. Mischief. Mischief."

"Idiotic, stupid, control freak," Stiles grumbled, kicking a rock. Continuing his walk, getting angrier and angrier.

"I'm such a control freak. In fact, I can't go two seconds without making some sort of jab at Stiles. Oh, wait no, Mischief."

"I hate him,"

"I hate you!" Stiles screamed turning around to the direction behind him as if Pan could hear him. Stiles huffed, looking towards the ground, grumbling to himself.

A slow clapping made Stiles whip his head around.

"Lovely performance, Mischief," Pan smirked. He was leaning against a tree, the same direction Stiles was walking only moments ago. "I do however, have one note." Pan walked forward, holding a single finger in the air. Anger had swelled up in Stiles throat. So much so that his entire body shook while his hands were in tight fists. "I don't throw knives for fun. I throw them to teach a lesson." Pan stood in front of Stiles with his arms crossed and eyebrow quirked.

"And what lesson was it supposed to teach me?" Stiles spat. The wind began to quicken its pace.

"Obey," Pan smirked. Stiles practically growled at that.

"Obey?" Stiles fumed. "Obey!" Stiles rage, if possible, doubled. Before he knew it, Stiles' fist barreled into Pan's jaw making the ladder stumble back. Pan's hand reached up towards his own face, rubbing it. "I am not a dog! You can and will not command me."

"Can't I?" Pan's hand fell from his face while a perfectly plucked eyebrow rose.

"Don't," Stiles spat. "Don't you dare." Pan walked closer towards Stiles.

"Or what? You can't do anything." Stiles' rage bubbled to the surface. Pan smirked at his success. If Stiles had been more aware, he would have noticed the outward effect of his power.

"You do not own me," Stiles growled. The raw power that Stiles possessed made Pan beam. "You never have and never will." Stiles' fists we're engulfed in black flames. "And I will be dammed if I ever join you." Stiles shut his eyes, attempting to regulate his breathing. The flames slowly evaporated however, the forest refused to return to its normal state. Pan watched as Stiles calmed himself, satisfaction wrinkling his face.

"Did you feel that?" Pan spoke making Stiles snap his eyes open. "That power?" Stiles pushed his anger down. "Look around." Stiles slowly turned his head, viewing the destruction he had caused. "Do you hear that?" There was nothing. No birds. No squirrels. No sound. Even the wind had stopped. The once bright green scenery had turned completely black. It looked as if the life and energy had been sucked from every living thing. Every plant, every tree, had bent and twisted away from him. A circle of destruction and at the center; Stiles and Pan. "This was you, Mischief,"

Stiles looked down, his once anger was rapidly turning into anxiety. Stiles looked down towards the floor, trying to regulate his breathing.

"I can help you," Pan offered, eyes scanning the younger's face. Stiles quickly shook his head, looking up towards Pan.

"Absolutely not," Stiles said. "The last thing I need is you." Stiles took a step back while Pan quirked an eyebrow.

"Well," Pan said. "based off all this," Pan's eyes scanned around to emphasize his point. "I'm your best option."

Stiles took another step back, shaking his head.

"Mischief," Pan took a step forward. "I want to help you. You need training. Look around you. If you don't get yourself under control, you can hurt someone. Henry, your friends." Stiles shook his head again. "I want to help you."

"I don't trust you," Stiles glared.

"You don't have to," Pan smiled, taking another step forward. "Think of this as a partnership."

"What do you get out of it?" Stiles questioned.

"A second," Pan said. "A friend."

"I am not your second," Stiles growled once again but he regulated himself. "I am your equal. And I am and never will be your friend."

"All I ask is for you to be open to wherever this partnership takes us," Stiles' eyes squinted, scanning Pan's face for any sign of deception. After all, this was Peter Pan. A villian. A manipulator. A snake.

Stiles' only option.

"Do we have a deal?" Pan held out a hand. Stiles looked up at his face, knowing exactly what he had to do.

"Deal."