Stiles woke up and immediately wished that he hadn't. He hurt everywhere. That wasn't even an exaggeration - his entire body ached to the point where he could hardly sit up. Lying in the foetal position, outside his tent where he had fallen asleep, he felt aching in muscles he hadn't previously known he had. His body felt stiff and sore. His shoulder was unbearably painful. It didn't look like he had done anything major to it other than pulling a muscle, but it throbbed like hell. His legs were killing him as well. He could feel the pain radiating out of the bones and muscles of his joints. His neck hurt from the way he had been sleeping on it, as well as the hard ground that had been his pillow. As his eyes adjusted to the light he looked over himself. The mud he had dragged himself through had dried, leaving a thick crust over his clothes and legs. And the bruises. They were everywhere. There were bruises he had no idea how he had gotten. Glancing down his shirt he saw already purple bruises dappled over his pale chest.

He could hear the shouts of the pack who were heading back from the river. He decided that, considering how he reeked of sweat and mud, he should probably have a shower. Screwing up his nose at the smell, he felt the mud on his face crack and peel. Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself onto his feet and, picking out his towel from his bag, he started to limp across the clearing.

The pack gave him waves and sympathising looks as he passed by them. Thankfully Peter and Derek were nowhere to be seen, having retreated to their tent. Finally he reached the trail at the edge of the forest and started his trek to the river.

The forest was the same tranquil place as it had been when he had walked through it after the torturous course. To pass the time he studied the gnarled trunks of the trees and the strangling, parasitic creeper plants growing round them. Stiles wondered how long the trees had been around, what they had seen. Looking up he watched the birds jump from branch to branch. He was able to ignore the pain which was plaguing his body by zoning out and listening to the bird call to each other. Finally after a long walk the bush started to thin down. At last the forest broke completely and he stepped out into the sun.

At the end of the muddy path was a swimming hole, which was completely sheltered by the surrounding bush. The waters slowly swirled around the muddy bank. Slowly and painfully Stiles stripped off his mud covered shirt and congratulated himself for hurting what must have been hundred of muscles in his chest, arms and back. He then pulled off his shoes and socks and let his toes sink into the mud. Lastly he removed his shorts, leaving only his cotton briefs.

Dropping his towel near the pile of clothes, Stiles slowly he stepped into the water, letting it lap over his feet. The water was warm from being in the sun and he stepped in; the water lapped around his knees, waist then stomach as he waded further in. The water, whilst initially painful and sharp against his bruises and cuts, became soothing and warm. He gingerly started to wash the mud off himself. Brushing his waist with the water, the mud softened and washed away. He started to wash the mud from his legs and chest. Bracing himself, he slowly waded in further until the water lapped around his throat. Taking in a deep breath he dipped his head under the water. As he held his breath, he ran his fingers through his hair, slowly washing the mud from it, and untangling the clumps. Breathing out bubbles, he washed the mud from his face.

Surfacing he wiped the water from his eyes and nose. He felt, for the first time in 24 hours, completely clean and relaxed. In the water his shoulder didn't feel that bad and the pain of his bruises had definitely lessened. He slowly let go and let his body float to the surface so he was floating on his back. He could feel the water move around him but it wasn't strong enough to pull his body. Looking towards the river he could see the strong current pull past and eddy around the edge of the swimming hole. At the corner of the river and the swimming hole was a large tree hanging into the water. Planks of wood had been nailed to the trunk to form stairs and a tire swing hung from a study branch. Both the stairs and the tyre were slick with water, which Stiles guessed was from the pack's outing here.

Wading back to the edge of the water, Stiles grabbed his clothes and pulled them into the water with him. Dropping his muddy shoes into the shallow water, he started to soak the mud from his shirt and shorts. After all the water around the clothes had run clear and all the mud was gone, he drudged out of the water to a nearby tree and, after wringing the water from his clothes, hung them up on a branch in the sun to dry.

Laying his head back he felt the water pool around the edges of his face. He stared up at the forest, the tree tops and the blue sky. The weather had been perfect today - bright blue sky, sun and fluffy clouds. If there was perfect weather to be tortured via obstacle course - this was it. Closing his eyes his listened to the trickling water, and his own breathing. With his ears under water he could hear the intake and exhale of his breath which was surprisingly relaxing. He felt all his tense, sore muscles relax and loosen. He slowly shut his eyes and concentrated on the water beneath him.

Just as his was beginning to drop back to sleep his eyes snapped open as he heard a noise from the bush. Raising his head from the water, he listened to the sounds of feet walking over earth and twigs bending and then snapping back into place. Someone was coming. Standing up in the water he could only watch as the Derek appeared.

Stiles suddenly realised how exposed he was. In his briefs. In the water. Alone. Oh God. Fuck. Maybe if he closed his eyes as tight as he could and wished really hard the river would swallow him up. He tried. He opened his eyes. It hadn't worked. He was still there. He briefly considered ducking under the water but either he would have to hold his breath for an inhuman amount of time, or he would have to swim out to the river and be dragged away by the current. Neither of which sounded particularly appealing. Or he could just die. That was always an option.

But it was too late. Derek was at the water's edge. And was staring directly at him. Fuck.

Derek was clearly as surprised as he was. One hand held his balled up t shirt and the other was on his belt. Stiles couldn't help gazing at Derek's chest which was chiselled to the point of resembling a marble statue of Adonis. I mean how were those abs even possible!? After working out at the gym, playing lacrosse and running from werewolves on a daily basis Stiles only had the faintest outline of abs. What did Derek do to achieve that? Stile's stare ran over Derek's broad shoulders, to his collar bone to his pecs.

Stiles realised he was staring and quickly redirected his stare towards Derek's face. Thankfully Derek seemed to be distracted and after scanning Stile's torso with a potently hot stare, he regained eye contact. Neither of them spoke. Finally Derek broke his stare and walked over to the bank to undress. Stiles quickly averted his eyes and ducked under water, only to surface as Derek began to wade in. The dude looked like Daniel Craig. This was equal parts unfair and hot.

Derek waded in near him and began to wash. Dipping his head under the water he scrubbed the dirt from his hair and then moved on to his chest as his body gleamed as the sun hit the water. Oh God. This was so awkward. Should he leave? But then it would look like he was deliberately ditching Derek. But he surely couldn't stay. This was too awkward.

Then he realised the Derek was staring at him. And not in the smouldering I-want-to-take-you-here-and-now way like earlier. His gaze was jumping from place to place - from his collar bone, to his shoulder to his chest. And then he clicked. Derek was staring at the bruises. Remembering Derek's abuse from earlier Stiles suddenly grew angry. "Feeling guilty are we?" he snapped.

Derek slowly looked up at him. He seemed to mulling something over. Trying to find the right words. "I didn't mean to put you through so much. I was just trying to look out for you."

After a pause Stiles realised that his mouth was hanging open and quickly shut it. "Loo...Looking out for me!? You stood over me and threatened to rip my throat out with your teeth. In what way is that "looking out for me?" Stiles exclaimed, his hands flying out of the water to do an exaggerated quoting gesture, which sent water flying all over Derek.

"You're the only human in my pack. Shocking as this may be to you, I don't want to see you ripped to shreds at the claws of the alpha pack or unable to defend yourself when Scott turns and lashes out. I was pushing you harder than the rest of them because you, out of everyone here, need to be the strongest!"

Stiles softened when Derek described him as one of the pack. He abruptly realised that Derek had taken a few steps forward during his rant and they were now standing almost nose to nose. He paused, staring at Derek, wondering if he was going to move away. Seconds past and Derek hadn't jumped away in disgust. Stiles inched forward until his chest was almost pressed against Derek. Just as Derek leaned his head forward the sound of footsteps rang around the swimming hole.

Jumping apart they both tried to act natural in the rippled and choppy water as Scott broke through the bush. He eyed the pair suspiciously. "Umm...Peter told me to bring you both back as everyone is hungry and it's your night to cook." he said, staring at Derek.

Derek cleared his throat. "Yeah...okay...I'll be there soon. You two go, I'll catch up."

Stiles quickly waded out of the water, dried himself of with the towel and wrapped it around his waist as quick as he could. After picking up his soaking and now clean shoes from the shallows, and his now dry clothes from the tree branch, he hurried over to the edge of the forest where Scott was waiting. Glancing over his shoulder once, he saw Derek standing in the water, staring after him.

"...Did I interrupt something?" Scott asked, battling to keep a smirk under control.

"What? Nope. No. No way." Stiles said hurriedly in a relaxed a manner as he could muster.

"Have you got a thing for our alpha, Stiles?" Scott snickered.

"Shut up. I mean no. No things. Nothing is going on." Stiles babbled.

"Probably don't want to get into a relationship with someone who could kill you using only two fingers." Scott was clearly still holding back laughter.

"Oh really? That's pretty rich coming from a guy who got tasered by his girlfriend."

Scott punched him.

"Whipped." Stiles coughed.

Scott punched him again.

The sounds laughter and fighting echoed throughout the forest as they made their way back to the clearing.

Thanks for reading! Don't forget to review! Different playlist for this chapter - 8tracks dotcom / weirdzebrathing / let-s-do-the-panic-tonight