Being lost is okay

Nothing (17)

A grunt escaped Stiles' lips as his back roughly hit the floor.

It had been a week.

A week of absolute torture. The duo had not gone back to the campsite like Stiles had expected. They had stayed in the forest. Pan had called it 'roughing it' saying it with a proud cheeky grin. Roughing it included Pan waking Stiles up before the crack ass of dawn with a new scare tactic.

First day? Stiles was woken up by water being thrown on him.

Second day? Spiders. Creepy crawly icky gross hairy disgusting spiders. Crawling on him.

And it only got worse.

But the biggest problem Stiles had was Pan himself. Everything Pan did made Stiles' plan of premeditated murder grow. A simple breath leaving Pan's lips would make Stiles want to go bat shit crazy.

The duo had spent hours in the forest together. Pan taking on the role of excited torturer- teacher while Stiles was the unwilling student who's only desire was to just go back to sleep. Teacher Pan had taught unwilling Stiles fundamental magic and its history. Sharing stories of how he created Neverland.

Stiles did everything he could to hide his fascination. But it only seemed to grow with each day passing day. He wanted to learn more. He needed to learn more.

But today Pan had decided they had been 'Too lazy' for far too long.

So, with a lively very hungry family of raccoons being his alarm clock, Stiles and Pan began practicing hand to hand combat.

It was not going well.

Pan's delighted chuckle, brought Stiles out of his spiral of hatred.

"Oh, come on, Mischief!" Pan said above him. "You should have seen that coming!"

"I-" Stiles gulped in oxygen. "I will throw you."

"Then get up and do it," Pan encouraged, a wide smile crinkling his face.

"No." Stiles rolled over, shutting his eyes. Oh how much he wanted to sleep.

Footsteps scudded behind Stiles yet he refused to move. The footsteps stopped behind him. A light tapping on his back made him groan.

"Stop," Stiles grumbled, blindly swatting at the annoying pest. "Let me sleep."

"You can sleep when you're dead," Pan continued his kicking. Stiles could practically see the smirk on his face.

"Then let me die," Stiles grumbled, trying to ignore the outside world. The tapping stopped making Stiles sigh in relief. Finally. Enjoying the quiet, he snuggled into the ground, hoping it would swallow him whole.

His moment of peace was snapped away from him as he was manhandled into the air. He was barely able to stable himself before Pan threw a punch. Stiles squeaked but ducked. Pan performed a round house kick, Stiles' eyes bulged but dodged the blow once again, taking a few steps back.

"Never." Punch. Dodge.
"Say." Kick. Dodge.
"That." Weird flip thingy. Almost beheaded.
"Again!" A kick directly to the chest knocked Stiles to the floor.

Pan heaved, both fists clenched at his sides. He stood above the prince, eyes hard while rage practically burned Stiles. Catching his breath, Stiles held his hands in the air, in surrender.

"Ok," Stiles breathed. "Ok, you win."

"I do not want to win," Pan practically growled. "Don't you ever say that again." Stiles numbly nodded, not getting up. Pan reached down, holding his hand out causing Stiles to involuntarily flinch. Pan huffed, bringing his hand up to pinch his nose in frustration. "Mischief." Stiles pushed himself off the ground, meeting Pan's eyes. "I will never hurt you." Stiles took a step back, making a face.