Hi! This is not my first fanfic, but it is my first one for this fandom (Sterek and TW both). Written for the wattpad fanfic contest #loveonice, enjoy and review? ;)

~The Thawing of Our Hearts~

"Stiles, move!"

Stiles barely hears him. His vision's gone blurry, and his ears are ringing. There's a stabbing pain in his chest that's rapidly spreading outwards, zipping through his veins into his limbs and making his bones feel heavy.

He vaguely registers someone wrapping their arms around him with a curse, yanking him off his feet and suddenly he's moving. He manages to mostly regain control of his legs and stumbles into a run with them, the hands still gripping his shirt urging him along.

He's suddenly pulled to the side and then the arms are around him again, holding tight, his back pressed to a solid chest, his legs between someone else's. He knows who it is, knows what's happening, but his brain's just blanked.

There's a hand covering his mouth, another pressed over his heart and he reaches for them, his hands finding purchase in smooth leather and he clutches it, trying to breathe. The arms flex to press him closer and he can feel their breaths on his neck, feels their face brush against his head and suddenly there's a voice in his ear.

"Stiles, what is it, what's wrong? Stiles, hey, breathe." It's a whisper, urgent, and he barely registers but he forces himself to obey as the hand leaves his mouth and settles over his.

The body plastered to his back shifts slightly, and it's enough for him to slip on the whitened ground beneath him. His legs give beneath him and he waits for the pain of the fall. It doesn't come and he realises the arms holding him have adjusted so one is wrapped tightly around his waist and then the voice is back to hiss an exasperated "Stiles" in his ear.

He lets the arms hold him up while he runs through a list of possible reasons that lungs would stop working. But his brain's stopped, his mind's completely blanked and he tells himself he's lucky to remember his own name.

Then suddenly the arms around him curl tighter, protective, and he sinks back in relief as one thought comes back.

Derek.

"I think they're gone," Derek murmurs quietly, resting his head back against what Stiles now realises is a tree. "Whether they are or not we have to get out of here."

"Derek," Stiles chokes out, right before he pitches forward and lands face first in the snow.

"Stiles!" Derek crouches down to grab the younger boy, pulling him out of the snow and into his chest. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Stiles shakes his head against the wolf's chest, curling closer when he feels the warmth radiating off the man. He curls a hand in his leather jacket. Derek gives a huff before reaching to pull it off but when his hand makes contact with the boy's skin he snatches it away.

"Jesus, Stiles, you're freezing." He wraps a hand around Stiles' wrist, pulling his hand up until he could look at it. "Stiles," he says quietly. "Did you get hit?"

The boy shrugs his shoulders, curling in on himself more but Derek slips a hand around his neck and tilts his head up to look at him. "Stiles, come on, did you get hit?"

He starts to shrug again before stopping himself, then he slowly starts to nod. Derek curses and pulls him onto his lap, keeping him off the freezing ground.

"It kinda hurts to breathe," Stiles whispers, letting his head drop to Derek's shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure it's because you're literally freezing." Derek brushes a hand through the boy's hair before using it to take Stiles'.

Stiles looks up at him with wide eyes. "What?"

"The spell you were hit with," Derek explains, holding their hands up for him to see. "It's freezing you."

Stiles stares at his hand, usually pale but never like this. His skin appears sheet white, veins of ice thrown across it, curving over his wrist, disappearing under the sleeve of his shirt.

"What, what does that mean, am I dying?!"

Derek looks at him sharply but doesn't reply, taking a firmer grip of his hand. Stiles watches as the icy veins turn black, seeping along his skin into Derek's, curling up his arm as he takes the boy's pain.

Stiles sees the wolf's eyes turn blue and snatches his hand away, cradling his arms to his chest. "That's enough."

"Stiles-"

Derek starts to protest but he shakes his head. "I'm okay. It doesn't hurt anymore."

Stiles knows the man's listening to his heartbeat and only realises himself that he's telling the truth, that the pressure on his lungs has eased. Derek nods slowly and curls his arms back around him. He carefully places his hand over the human's jaw, cradling his head and hoping his own skin is warm enough to ward off the frost now creeping up Stiles' neck.

Derek's so focused on listening to the boy's heartbeat he almost misses it when he speaks.

"Why'd you save me?"

His voice is so soft, so small, and there's a pause before he's answered, "Scott would've killed me if I didn't."

Stiles tilts his head up to show his raised brows and clear disbelief at the beta's words. "You're not the only one who can hear the other's heartbeat right now big guy." He gestures to where his head's resting on Derek's chest and the wolf stiffens.

Stiles lets his head droop again but not before Derek catches the hint of a smirk curling the edge of his lips. He gives a huff before changing his answer.

"Fine, maybe I thought I owed you. A save for a save, that's how we work."

Stiles scoffed. "You say that like we've kept track. Either way, I think we're pretty even."

"Maybe I wanted to give you some incentive for next time."

"If you want to give someone incentive you should go save Scott."

"Scott always tries to save everyone. You try to save me."

Stiles looks up again, brows raised, lips in a smirk. "Someone's confident."

Derek smirks back at him, even as his heart falls at the sight of the frost now covering half the boy's face.

"How do we fix this? Can this be fixed?"

Derek looks down to see him staring at his hands. Hands that have started to shake, and Derek knows from listening to breathing a little too harsh and a heartbeat a little too quick that it's not from the cold.

Derek takes Stiles' shaking hands in his own, curling his fingers around them and bringing them to settle against their chests. "We'll fix it."

Stiles doesn't awknowledge him, heart still thumping. Derek squeezes his hand. "Stiles." He waits until the boy looks up at him, then in an even more determined voice repeats, "We'll fix it."

Stiles gives a weak nod and sinks back into him. "What's it going to do to me? Is it supposed to kill me?"

Derek doesn't give him an answer. He doesn't have one. Instead he tells him, "You didn't kick me out."

Since he doesn't look down at him, he feels more than sees Stiles tilt his head up again. "What?"

"The time I was a fugitive. When I was hiding from the sheriff in his son's bedroom. You didn't kick me out."

"Yeah, because if I tried you would've ripped my throat out. You know, 'with your teeth'."

"You knew I wouldn't have. Even then." Stiles scoffs but Derek shakes his head. "You knew. Tell me you didn't."

There's no reply, so he continues. "You didn't even think about it that time at the pool. You just jumped right in after me."

"Yeah but it's my fault you fell in in the first place."

"But even before that you were trying to save me."

"Because you'd tried to save me."

"Exactly, Stiles, because that's what we do."

He can feel Stiles' stare, not sure if it's because of what he's saying or just because he's saying so much. "I saved you because I'm not sure what I'd do if you died."

Now he looks down at him, at the wide brown eyes and soft parted lips and finds himself admitting, "I can't lose anyone else that I love, Stiles."

Then suddenly they're kissing. He's not sure who kissed who, can't bring himself to care with the feel of Stiles' mouth on his. He lifts a hand to cradle the other man's frozen cheek and parts his lips in offering.

Stiles is cold but soft against him and he knows he'll never forget this. The two of them sitting in the snow, under the bare, broken branches of a tree, lips and hearts pressed together.

Derek pulls back to see Stiles' pale but blushing skin and grins at him. "At least know you can say you turned into an abominable snowman with a little truth behind it."

Stiles hums. "Matt was right about one thing. We make a pretty good pair. I love you too, Sourwolf."